


Not Too Hard to Master (Though It May Look Like Disaster)

by dgeheimnis



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Boss/Employee Relationship, Childhood Memories, F/F, Femslash, Older Woman/Younger Woman, Romance, Sexual Tension, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-29
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2018-06-05 05:10:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 61,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6690967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dgeheimnis/pseuds/dgeheimnis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kara was a terrible liar. She knew this. But there were still a few lies that she could tell flawlessly, even to herself. She was fine. Her feelings for Cat Grant were only a harmless crush.</p><p>Well, almost flawlessly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is set sometime after Episode 13: For the Girl Who Has Everything and before Episode 16: Falling.
> 
> The title is taken from Elizabeth Bishop's poem "One Art."
> 
> Special thanks to Dreiser for all her help and feedback.

****Kara was exceptionally talented at losing things. Though she would never dare say this out loud, on her darker days, she feared that this was her best skill: losing things. Not flying, or X-Ray vision, or any of the other traits that would eventually make her National City’s hero. Losing an entire planet can do that to a person.

Planet was a strangely weightless and unsatisfying word to Kara. It gave a sense of the air, the atmosphere, but not the heft of a whole world. So when she said she lost her planet it sounded like she had simply misplaced her favorite cardigan. It was like illustrating the loss and destruction with a science project consisting of baking soda and vinegar. No matter how many languages Kara learned, she never found the words that could truly express the the lost landscapes and constellations.

It wasn’t losing just her family, her friends, the people scattered throughout her mostly carefree childhood, and all the people she would never meet and never know. It was her favorite songs, the music of an entire civilization. This was a slower kind of unanticipated loss, the words blurring around the edges before tiptoeing out of her memory. The melodies, trembling quietly, began mixing with the Top 40 hits on the radio behind her back and beyond recognition. Even now, while picking up Cat Grant’s latte, a childhood song would pop in her head, distant and faint, a garbled melody. She would be lucky if in a day or two if a line or even a full chorus would enwrap her in a warm, familiar embrace.

She lost the map in her mind of where Vathlo Island once was and the ins and outs of Argo City that she once knew with the fluency of a child—bright, vibrant, and from a slightly off kilter height where nothing was ever quite at eye level. It was cravings for tastes she could never sate, scents that could never be replicated in this new world, unfollowed traditions that sometimes left a dull ache of wrongness in her chest, and holidays she could only remember with an increasing haziness. She lost her points of reference, people to corroborate the details in her memory and remind her of Rao’s exact shade of red or the intricacies of her people’s history that, at the age of 12, she hadn’t yet learned. There would be no awkward first love with someone who grew up learning the same stories and nursery rhymes, who lived in a world where robots were a mundane fact of everyday life.

Kara lost the knowledge of her first words and the comfort of her native tongue. It had been years since she even dreamed in Kryptonian, longer since she spoke in it. Kal-El’s harsh and clumsy human accented Kryptonian had been one of the biggest motivations for Kara to learn English as quickly as she did. It was too painful, not the words themselves but Kal-El’s clunky impression of them that all too perfectly displayed the crushing reality of her loss. He emphasized the wrong syllables and, best intentions aside, he couldn’t hear the difference between his pronunciation and Kara’s corrections. He didn’t have an ear for the vowels, for the subtleties of her language that she had always taken for granted. In the end, she had to accept that English, not Kryptonian, was her cousin’s native tongue. Once she had gained some semblance of fluency in English, with a childlike enthusiasm for embracing this new world, she discouraged any further conversation in their supposed shared language. They were intended to be each other’s tethers and supports, but her time in the Phantom Zone had meant she also lost a mirror, a reference, a reflection of the first twelve years of her life.

After all, Kal-El was Clark Kent, a human in all but blood and had never really been Kal-El at all. Kal-El was an idea, Clark was a fully grown man, her younger-but-also-older cousin who had no memory of her until Earth. It was asymmetrical, these feelings of finally being reunited with a long lost, beloved family member. And in her first months, her first years it was her who needed protection, who needed help, and not Kal-El at all.

It was both the hardest and easiest thing she had ever done, letting herself be overtaken by gratitude and amazement for this new and exciting planet. A whole world of strangers and stories and second chances. It was a planet full of its own songs and food and people to know or never meet. With Earth’s strange languages and fascinating customs, she fashioned a fence around the Krypton-sized hole in her heart and, with the help of her second family, tried to implement safety measures around it. Quietly, earnestly she devised ways to honor the loss and then, as she became ambitious and hopeful, of ways to fill it.

* * *

Cat Grant leaned up against the balcony railing, drink cradled in her hands, looking up at the stars. She didn’t seem the least bit surprised when Supergirl appeared before her in the night sky, her red cape swirling in the wind. Cat tipped her glass up in acknowledgement, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

“Supergirl,” Cat greeted her with the self assurance of one who didn’t expect things, but who either knew or pretended things would mostly conform to their world view. As someone who often scurried around behind the scenes trying to shape the world to match these assumptions, it was a world view Kara was familiar with.

“Ms. Grant,” Kara returned the greeting, summoning all the strength she found in the suit to sound as imposing and un-Kara-like as possible. She was careful to remain several feet away and above Cat’s eye level. Not sure if J’onn’s shapeshifting could save her secret identity a second time around, Kara had started taking extra measures to be more careful. Even so, it felt like too little too late. “James said you wanted to see me.”

James had said no such thing. Kara still had to remember to tell him he had set this meeting up. It had been after an unusually long and pensive silence that Cat had called Kara into her office as Kara was packing up her bag for the day. Cat simply requested Kara swing by the Art Department on her way out “since she was bound to anyway” and see if James would contact Superman about requesting a meeting with Supergirl “at her convenience.” For Cat, it was an unusually demure request and it had caught Kara’s voice in her throat for a second too long. When Kara finally shoved her voice out of her mouth to inquire if there was anything else, Cat made a half-hearted dig at Kara’s hair and how it still badly needed conditioner. When Kara left a few minutes later, Cat had already poured herself a drink and relocated to the balcony.

Kara had been too preoccupied to remember to stop by the Art Department or to think of James at all really. Kara had watched Cat grow increasingly quiet all day, almost eerily subdued. Withdrawn. Cat had shrugged away any and all of Kara’s attempts to figure out what wrong. She waved off all well-intentioned questions, offers of headache medication, and glasses of M&Ms alike. Admittedly, Kara might not have tried as hard as she normally would have and arguably her attempts were not as well received as they once had been. To say that they were still recovering from the strained and awkward tension following Kara’s short-lived whatever it was with Adam and J’onn’s well intentioned but disasterous impersonation of Kara was a painful understatement.

Adam had been a mistake from start to finish, Kara realized it now. It had always been a race to see who would end it first. It was mortifying to think that at least part of the allure of Adam was a subconscious attempt at becoming closer to Cat. After all, Kara was probably the only person in the world who talked more about Cat Grant than Cat herself. As the dust settled following Adam’s return to Opal City, Kara was left with the eye opening realization that her feelings for her employer went well beyond strictly professional and couldn’t honestly be classified within the bounds of a mentor-protege relationship. Somewhere between biting comments about cold lattes and heartfelt advice, Kara’s feelings for Cat had evolved beyond a silly little school girl crush.

Kara waited barely over an hour after leaving the office to return to the CatCo building as Supergirl. Rationally, she knew she should have waited longer. But Kara wasn’t one for waiting, not when she was worried, not with Cat so pensive and Supergirl being the only way Kara knew how to restore the lost closeness between them. While Cat was guarded with Kara, she spoke freely to Supergirl. Her shoulders would still soften in the way they used to around Kara. Kara missed the warmth behind the carefully constructed walls, their wandering conversations, and the lilt in Cat's voice.

She missed Cat. If it wasn’t for Hank and Alex’s voices in her head telling her to be reasonable and to think of her secret identity, she would have returned to the CatCo balcony much sooner.

“Well, that was faster than expected,” Cat observed with a slight upturn to her mouth. Still, there was something distant, something off about a woman who was usually the physical embodiment of fierce confidence.

“I hope you didn’t just call me to test the efficiency of this new convoluted messaging system of yours.” Kara crossed her arms, putting on a frown.

“If I had a more direct method of contacting you I wouldn’t have to resort to such methods. And yet you seem insistent on remaining hard to reach. Though I imagine a cell phone might not…” Cat’s eyes raked up and down the form in front of her, “work with your outfit. I’m not saying you should fire your costume designer, but this getup is hardly the most practical or fashionable.”

Kara tried to fight the blush warming her face, hoping the night sky would work in her favor. She bit back a babbling comment about bluetooth and revealing that she did, in almost all cases, keep her cellphone on her. It was hard, not slipping back into Kara Danvers in front of Cat. As for her suit, Kara had wanted to support the decisions made by Kal-El over a decade ago on how to represent the House of El on Earth. While she might not admit it, there were plenty of times she had longed for more subdued colors and perhaps a pants option. No one ever asked and Kara would never bring it up, but she would have greatly preferred a simple black suit like Astra’s.

“Ms. Grant.” She tried to keep her tone even, businesslike. “Why did you call?”

“There’s a little girl dying of cancer.”

“There is a limit to what I can do.” Kara looked at the other woman exasperated and slightly pained.

“This girl, Molly, she became ill shortly before you arrived to National City,” Cat continued, unperturbed by Supergirl’s initial response. “You became a great help to her. An inspiration, if you will. Here, let me show you.” Cat turned to walk in her office, but paused after a few steps when she sensed she wasn’t being followed. Cat turned around to find that Supergirl, dedicated to her new policy of keeping a safe distance, hadn’t moved. Cat rolled her eyes. “I can bring the pictures out to you, but either way you’ll have to come closer. I promise I won’t make any further wild speculations about your precious secret identity.” She swirled the drink her hand, a natural extension of her words. The controlled sloshing of the amber liquid seemed to be a beckoning finger, calling Supergirl out for her silly hesitancy.

Somehow, Kara doubted Cat’s promise. She still found herself landing softly on the balcony and silently following Cat into her office.

It always felt strange standing in Cat’s office in her Supergirl costume. She caught herself, out of habit, checking the M&M level with her X-Ray vision. It was times like this that Kara wanted to spend a whole weekend with her cousin to pick apart his brain and try to better understand how he balances it all. Cat had said master one thing at a time, but secret identities only seemed to get harder over time and now that she had come out as Supergirl, there wasn’t much she could do about small, thoughtful steps in the secret identify department.

Already laid out across Ms. Grant’s desk were several heartbreaking pictures of a small girl. Kara couldn’t help but pick up the nearest photo. Tracing the smile of the girl with her finger, Kara realized that it wasn’t just that Cat expected her to show up. Cat had faith in her, in Supergirl. Cat Grant had hoped, had believed that she’d show up. It was a warming yet intimidating realization that spread through her chest.

Pushing the feeling from her mind, she examined the photo with deep interest. In a way, the pictures seemed sadly unrecognizable from all the other pictures one saw of children fighting cancer—a bald head, a thin and brittle body adorned by tubes and wires, a fragile hold on life despite a belief in magic, and the absolute unfairness of it all. Molly couldn’t have been more than seven or eight. Somehow she managed to be, from what Kara could tell, genuinely smiling in each picture. From the photos, it seemed the child had quite the collection of the shirts that had been popping up across National City sporting Kara’s family crest. In one photo, Molly was even holding a doll in a Supergirl outfit that was clearly homemade, her smile beaming more than ever. It still struck Kara as odd and vaguely unsettling at times, what her family crest meant on this planet and to see it adorned on those who were not of the House of El. But in this moment, Kara was happy that she could give a small girl this.

Kara closed her eyes, pushing back the vast sadness filling her heart. She bit her lip and looked up at Cat, silently asking the older woman why she was showing her these pictures. There had to be a point. There always was with Cat.

“Her diagnosis… never really held any actual hope of recovery,” Cat explained, her hands illustrating a bit slower than usual. “A few weeks to live if lucky type of diagnosis. And then you came along, Supergirl. And she’s lived far longer than anyone ever expected. In some circles, it’d almost be considered a miracle.” Cat took a sip of her drink, as if by doing so would hide her own growing belief in miracles.

“I… I don’t even know her,” the words stuck in Kara’s throat. “It could have… all kinds of reasons why she…”

“She’s been living off the strength of hope alone. You’ve helped her find that strength within herself. You’ve been, well, a hero.” Cat placed her drink down and looked, really looked at Kara as if through her eyes alone she could press truth upon Kara.

“I… Why are you telling me this?” Kara had seen the news stories. She had read the articles, the op-eds, and even a few blog posts detailing what Supergirl meant to people. It was always such a strange, out of body experience. People had been calling her an inspiration, but it felt so faraway and unreal. The words and sentiments were untouchable, something she could smile and laugh away with a scrunch of her nose. She was just Kara, just Supergirl trying to give back to the planet that had given her so much when she had absolutely nothing. But here, standing in Cat’s office, holding pictures of a girl who was dying, it all suddenly felt so very visceral, so overwhelmingly real and confusing. There was a weight to what she was, something she was still only starting to realize in fits and starts.

“Even so, there is a limit on miracles, I’m afraid.” Cat frowned, picking up her drink once again, holding it with the slightest tremble as she took a sip. “Her dying wish is to meet you. Well, to fly with you really. But no one thinks she’s strong enough for that at this point…”

“Of all the kids in the hospitals across National City…. why now, why her?” Kara’s eyes narrowed, fully taking Cat in, suddenly wishing her X-Ray vision worked on hearts. She needed to focus on something else beyond the girl, her sickness, and how Kara had somehow helped her. So she turned her thoughts and attention to Cat, who had somehow become the safer direction for her mind to take. Was this why Cat had been so quiet all day? The city was full of dying children so why call Supergirl in to her office now? 

Uncomfortable with the scrutiny, Cat looked away.

“You know her, don’t you?” Kara pressed.

Cat shook her head, still not looking straight at Supergirl. “Carter does. My son. She’s his half sister.”

“I understand.” Kara nodded. And she did, she thought, understand. Cat would do anything for her son. Suddenly, Carter’s love for Supergirl came into a deeper, fuller context. “I can visit her tomorrow, during visitor hours.” She gently placed down the photo that she had unknowingly crumpled in her hand. She tried to flatten it out, letting her embarrassment override whatever other emotion was bubbling up inside her. The photo was far too gone, wrinkled and creased though thankfully not ripped or torn. Kara was painfully aware at how closely Cat was watching her hands as she tried to undo the damage. Self conscious, Kara found Cat’s eyes, her hands receding back to her sides. “But Ms. Grant, I am serious on this point, no press. I am turning around the moment I see any reporters.”

Suddenly the Queen of All Media that Kara was all too familiar with rose to the surface. “The world needs to know what kind of hero you are, Supergirl. You’re more than your heat ray vision. It would do good to show people your heart.”

“This isn’t some PR stunt, Ms. Grant. I’m doing this for Molly. And Carter.” But Kara relented. She always relented for Ms. Grant. “You can be there. And James. But no one else. No interviews. No statements. Anyone else and it’s off.”

“Deal.” Cat sighed, as if she was being held to an utterly ridiculous and nonsensical proposition.

* * *

Both women held up the ends of their bargain. It had been heartbreaking. Molly was so frail, so small and brittle, it seemed like her smile, so wide and bright, would destroy her. Kara’s heart sunk at how the girl’s entire face lit up merely at Supergirl’s appearance in her hospital window. Molly clapped her hands in pure glee as the nurse propped her up in bed when Supergirl walked through the door only moments later.

The look on Molly’s face when Supergirl knew her name? More than all the Kryptonite in the world, it felt like this child’s happiness would literally destroy Kara from the unfairness of it all.

Carter had been there, smiling widely but remaining largely and quietly pressed against his Mother’s side as Supergirl hugged the dying girl with the utmost care. Kara didn’t know who would shatter first: her or Molly.

Ms. Grant was right. There was no way she could fly this girl around the city. Or even around the hospital. Molly was being held together by wires and hope alone. So it was with the greatest of care that Supergirl hovered only a few feet above the bed with Molly cradled in her arms, wires carefully arranged by the nurse. For Molly, it was enough. For Supergirl, for Kara, she wished it wouldn’t have had to be. In that moment, enough seemed like the most tragic word on Earth.

Kara had barely held it together throughout the entire visit, only allowing the huge sob to escape from deep within her chest once she had become airborne, high and far enough away to be outside of human earshot. It seemed so incredibly wrong on any and every single level. The girl was so young, so innocent, and so deathly ill. Kara would never understand it. 

Kara lingered in the air, trying to pull herself together before she would allow herself to come back down, as if the clouds held the strength and hope she needed to return to the human world. From a distance, she watched Ms. Grant exit the hospital and part ways with Carter and his father. With a practiced ease, Cat walked across the sidewalk where she was met by her driver.

The next moment was the blur of motion as Supergirl was jostled in the air, the surprised slight discomfort of something knocking against her ribs. Out of pure reflex, her arm shot down making harsh contact with the something or someone that had collided into her. On the alert, her eyes flashed around and twirled to see who or what was coming at her, but the sky was clear. Her attention turned downwards to find the object, whatever it was, plummeting.

Swearing under her breath, Kara shot down after it.

However the strength of which she initially knocked away the object and her compromised reflexes, slowed by the emotional turmoil of the afternoon and the resulting confusion from the unexpected impact, left her still a few feet behind the object as it crashed loudly into the hood of Ms. Grant’s car.

Ms. Grant jumped back with a well deserved shriek, clutching the arm of her driver. She stared in shock as Supergirl shamefully lowered herself to the ground. Kara’s eyes cast over to the object, now deeply embedded into the hood of her employer’s car. Despite being fairly destroyed by the impact, it was easy to tell that the object had once been a drone. Probably one of the cheaper models people could buy off the internet. Kara internally cringed as she realized she had most likely destroyed her boss’ car with some civilian toy. She was really beginning to hate those things.

“Are you alright?”

“What was that?” Ms. Grant’s eyes darted between the empty sky up ahead and the demolished vehicle in front of her. She continued to grasp onto her driver. Angela, an aspiring UFC fighter hired shortly after the Livewire incident, was Kara’s favorite of Ms. Grant’s drivers. Had Kara not been in her Supergirl costume, she would have shot Angela that look they often exchanged when Cat was in one of her moods.

“A drone.” Kara nodded, keeping a serious face. “It came out of nowhere.”

“Clearly. Why did it come out of nowhere onto my car?” Ms. Grant let go of Angela to gesture more emphatically between Supergirl and the damage with her sunglasses. “This is a bit too aggressive and ostentatious of a hood ornament for my tastes.”

“I’m terribly sorry. As I said, it came out of nowhere.” Kara hadn’t felt this sheepish since she accidentally caused an oil spill.

“And if it had hit a person?”

“We were lucky. _I_ was lucky.” Supergirl allowed herself to show the full level of relief that she had only just managed to destroy a car and not someone’s life. “If you excuse me, I’m going to call in someone to… assist.”

“Agent Mulder, you mean.” Ms. Grant pursed her lips. “I assume that means my car will be confiscated for ‘evidence.’”

“I can try to see to it that it won’t happen, Ms. Grant,” Supergirl tried to sound as reassuring as possible. Cat Grant without a car would be far more vexing for Kara than for the DEO, but hopefully Hank would be amiable to Supergirl’s point of view.

“It is a company car, no matter.” Ms. Grant seemed somewhat resigned. She turned to Angela, “Well, I’m sure they’ll want a statement for all this. After that, I suppose you have the rest of the day off.”

“Yes ma’am.” Angela nodded solemnly with a carefully trained face. Her eyes, however, gave her away—Kara was almost certain that Angela insisted on calling Ms. Grant ma’am for her amusement alone.

“One doesn’t pay to age as well I do to be called ma’am.” Cat glared.

Kara tried to hide her own small smile as she flew a little ways off to try to explain the situation over her earpiece. This drone was too low budget to likely be of any real concern, however one could never be too safe. Perhaps this was only a budget-conscious villain who chose a cheaper drone model in order to save up for the more impressive explosives.

When Supergirl returned a few minutes later, after a thorough chiding from both her sister and Hank, she tried to do her best impression of an authority figure. Usually the suit gave her an added sense of power and confidence, but between Molly and the embarrassing nature of the situation, Kara felt her demeanor was more a cobbled together impression of a caricature than anything else.

“There’s no need for any statements at this time,” Supergirl informed them in what she hoped was her most official voice.

“Wonderful, now all that’s left is for me to get home. I hope Kiera wasn’t actually expecting to have the day off today,” Ms. Grant shook her head, reaching into her bag and beginning to root around. “After spending the last hour in a hospital, I’m in no mood for the den of disease and forced small talk that is the modern ride share.”

“Ms. Grant,” Supergirl spoke up, her mouth moving faster than her brain as she frantically raced for a solution. The last thing she needed was her boss calling her as she was standing right in front of her in the Supergirl suit. “Please. Allow me to take you home. It’s the least I can do after what happened to your car.”

“Don’t you have a city to save and a drone to take in?” Cat, immediately aborting the hunt through her bag, made a circular motion with her sunglasses.

“What would your viewers think if they knew you had such a cynical view of National City, that it was a city that was always in need of saving?” Supergirl tipped her head to the side with an inquiringly honest expression. “The city is more resilient that you think, Ms. Grant. It can spare me the few minutes it will take me to fly you to your house.” And then in a softer tone, “Please. I insist.”

By the time the DEO had arrived on the scene to take the drone in for examination but allowing Angela to call a tow on the wrecked car, Cat had agreed to the quite literal lift home.

It was with a hopefully undetectably nervous heartbeat that Kara stepped closer to her boss, far closer than she normally did. So much for keeping her distance.

“Put your arms around my neck, Ms. Grant,” Kara advised, trying to keep a steady tone.

Cat nodded, suddenly silent as her eyes locked strangely onto Kara’s, and with only the slightest hesitation, did as she was instructed. Kara then scooped her boss up in her arms. It was strange revelation to actually feel just how small Cat Grant truly was. Her presence always made her seem much larger than her slight, birdlike frame. Kara had held what was quickly becoming a countless number of people as Supergirl, but it had never felt as intimate as it did now. She could feel Cat’s heartbeat as clearly as she could hear it, slightly faster than normal.

Maintaining eye contact, Supergirl smiled shyly. “Up, up, and away.”

Kara tried to fly as low as possible, knowing the higher altitudes were harder on humans and their increased sensitivity to temperatures. As she approached the balcony of Cat’s luxurious penthouse suite, she righted her body sooner than when she flew solo so she could slowly drift down until both feet landed softly the balcony.

It must have been colder than she realized, however, because before she landed, Cat seemed to hold her tighter, pressing her body up against Kara’s in a way that would linger in her memory for days to come. It was with a strange sense of loss and embarrassment when she placed Cat down. Cat, for her part, seemed strangely reluctant to withdraw her arms from around Kara’s neck. The air between them was thick, or thin, Kara couldn’t tell. But either way, it was charged. Even with Cat’s feet planted firmly on the ground, her arms were still wrapped tightly around Kara’s neck. Then loosely draped as the two simply stared at each before Cat’s arms finally returned to her sides.

“Well, that was exhilarating.” Cat smiled, her face flushed from the wind, taking two steps backwards, but her eyes still very much locked on Kara.

“It was the least I can do, Ms. Grant.” Kara returned the smile self-consciously. More for something to do than anything else, Kara reached up and with both her hands pushed the windswept hair out of her face. Her hands lingered just past her ears for a moment, unaware of how vulnerable, how alien her expression looked to the other woman.

“Hm, so you said.” Ms. Grant nodded slowly, her eyes making another pass over Kara’s features, before starting to head inside. “Can I offer you a drink?”

“I really should get going.” Supergirl fought against the voice in her head urging her to stay.

“Things to do, people to save. Still, it might do you good to decompress.” Cat tossed a sympathetic look over her shoulder before turning around to face Supergirl entirely. “It’s never easy.”

Kara tilted her head to the side, confused.

“I imagine you don’t do this a lot of in your line of work, visiting dying children.”

Kara looked down, feeling as if it was almost a judgement, the words striking an insecure core. “You’re right. I don’t.”

“You prefer people you actually have a chance of saving,” Cat observed with a neutral tone. Kara knew Cat well enough to know that it wasn’t a criticism, but it still made Kara feel inferior, less than, as if she had broken some unspoken superhero etiquette or that she could never, would never do enough. Be enough.

“I do what I can, Ms. Grant.” Kara shifted uncomfortably. She was beginning to realize, though it would truly take her years to fully realize and longer still to accept, that she would never be able to save everyone. No matter how good, how diligent she became. And no action or feat of heroism, no matter how they piled up over time, would undo the destruction and the loss of her home planet. It was a far easier observation, though equally as painful, to know that National City expected, assumed that they would be among the numbers of those saved and would grow angry or resentful when Supergirl failed to swoop in just in time like the stories on the television. Harder still would the be the people who assumed that they would be the exceptions, the lost, the forgotten, the ones left behind, the tally marks in the death tolls and missing persons reports scrolling across the bottom of the screen.

And as if sensingthe turmoil within Kara, Cat’s voice softened. “I think it would do you good to remember that sometimes saving someone isn’t about extending the length of one’s life. There’s more to you than whisking people away from burning buildings, Supergirl. You inspire people, you give them hope, a reason for believe. There’s a strength to be found in your brand of optimism, don’t you forget it. You do more for National City than you realize, just by being you.”

“And I could say the same about you, Ms. Grant.” And with that, Kara pushed off the balcony and flew out of view.

* * *

Kara circled the city several times before landing in her open apartment window. Alex was already curled up on the couch, the television volume on low, with two unopened pizza boxes before her, the smell wafting through the apartment. Alex looked up at Kara with a knowing look and wordlessly patted the empty space beside her. With a large sigh, Kara dropped onto the couch and kicked off her boots with an exaggerated struggle. Before she had fully settled and pulled a blanket over her Supergirl costume, Alex was already holding out a slice of cheese pizza.

“Don’t say it,” Kara shot her sister a look before accepting the pizza and taking a large bite. The still molten cheese tasted like a small hint of heaven.

“I didn’t say anything,” Alex held up her hands before reaching for her own slice. Unlike Kara, however, she balanced her slice gingerly between her fingers before blowing on it in an attempt to help cool it down.

Kara glared over her dinner, indicating silently that she was, in fact, waiting for what they both knew Alex was going to say and would much rather just get it over with.

Instead, Alex offered that, “The drone is most likely civilian. We’re doing a full background check on the owner, but it seems fairly safe to assume that it was just a case of wrong place, wrong time.”

“I hate drones.” Kara mumbled as she tore another aggressive bite into her pizza. It was times like this that Kara was thankful she hadn’t been able to burn her tongue since landing on this planet. Sometimes her metabolism didn’t have the patience for entropy.

For a while the two sisters sat silently, half distracted by the television. It was only when Kara reached for a second piece that Alex finally cracked a mischievous smile.

“We really should come up with a name, you know.”

“A name? Alex, for what?” Kara paused cautiously between bites. She recognized that look, the gleeful teasing tone anywhere.

“It’s a shame, you know, that Lyft is already taken.” Alex took on a mock seriousness. “It would have fit your new taxi service perfectly.”

Kara only glared before swallowing the rather large bite she had taken. “Very funny. What was I supposed to do? She was about to call me when I was already in front of her as Supergirl.”

“Maybe not go visit cancer kids for a PR stunt?”

“It wasn’t a PR stunt. And Molly…” Kara frowned, the crease in her brow only partially revealing the swirl of emotions underneath.It had been a heartbreaking and emotionally draining day.

Alex reached out and placed her hand on her sister’s knee, giving it a comforting squeeze. “I know. I just question giving your boss a literal lift home when she’s already figured out your identify once already.”

Kara tipped her head back and groaned in exasperation. “I know.”

“So were you with Cat this entire time or…?”

“No. Just flying around the city, watching the lights turn on… ” Shaking her head, Kara put down her second slice. It would be easy to play it off, to pretend it was seeing Molly that had her riled up and turned her thoughts inward. But it was more than that. It was holding Cat, their bodies pressed up against each other, Cat’s breath on her neck. At one point, Cat had curled so close that Kara felt Cat’s eyelashes brushing against her neck. Or maybe she just imagined that sensation. Either way, it was hard to get out of her head.

“Alex, I… I think I have a problem.”

Alex turned her head to look fully at her foster sister, eyes full of concern. “What sort of problem? With Ms. Grant or…?”

“I… I think…” Kara knew to an outside observer it might look odd, her curled up partially under a blanket still in her Supergirl outfit, her voice so soft and vulnerable. “I think I have a problem.”

“You said.” Alex furrowed her brow, her demeanor becoming increasingly worried.

“With Cat.”

“Knowing you’re Supergirl?” Alex loved her sister dearly and had more patience for her than she had for anyone else in the world. It pained her watching the glass house of Kara’s expressions try to mold the words she needed. 

“No. I mean… I hope not. That’s not… I mean, maybe.” Kara sighed and then threw her arms up. “I don’t know, could be that she’s figuring it out all over again. But that’s not…It’s a problem, yeah. But that’s not the problem, not _this_ problem.”

“Then what is it?” Alex tried to keep up with her sister, her voice soft, quiet. Concerned. It was times like this that she was always reminded that English wasn’t Kara first language, that sometimes it seemed like she was still filtering her thoughts through Kryptonian. When Kara had first arrived, she had shyly taught Alex some Kryptonian. It had been what they used to in the house when they didn’t want Eliza to know what they were saying or sitting alone on the roof, always with the unspoken understanding that they would never use it in public. While Kara had never explained the reason why, it had always been a point of pride that Kara had continued to speak Kryptonian to her long after Kara refused to do so with her cousin. However, over time, Kara seemed to quietly discourage Kryptonian with Alex as well, answering with English when Alex would speak in Kryptonian. Though looking back, Alex often feared she was equally to blame. It had happened in high school when Alex had wasted so much time trying to fit in, when she had spent so much energy worrying about how to protect Kara when her sister didn’t fit in. And now, watching Kara struggle, not for the first time she wished they had never stopped using her sister’s language.

“I think I…” Kara bit her lip and looked away, brow furrowed. “I think I might… I mean, I like Cat Grant. Like… like _like_ her.” It was only after she stopped talking that her eyes tentatively returned to her sister, nervous and soaking in any detail that might tell her what Alex was thinking, how she was reacting. But Alex was smiling warmly, tenderly and for some reason this confused Kara all the more. “Well… say something, Alex.”

“Something,” Alex grinned lovingly.

“Alex,” Kara whined. “I’m serious. Say something.”

“I did exactly what you said.”

“Alex!” Kara exhaled her frustration.

“Ok, fine. I mean, I know. I knew.” Alex placed her own slice of pizza down and looked at her sister and regarded her sister more seriously. “Not about Cat Grant specifically but you had a crush on just about every other female teacher you had in high school. You so have a type.”

“How did you know? And I did not,” Kara protested in a sputter, trying to both catch up to and deny the facts that her sister so matter-of-factly presented before her. “I do not.”

“Still an expert in analyzing speech patterns and body language, remember? Also I’m your sister and a human with eyes,” Alex teased affectionately. “You so had a crush on Ms. Ochs. And Ms. Hernandes. And don’t even try to pretend you weren’t head over heels for Ms. Lisenko.”

Kara opened her mouth to protest further before scrunching her face up. A thousand expressions flickered across her features before she finally crossed her arms and scooted further down into the couch, settling into a full slouch with a silent, confused acceptance.

“Wait… you didn’t realize, did you?” Suddenly Alex’s face dropped, her entire understanding of the situation shifted.

“No, not really?” Kara looked up at her sister with a look of vulnerability. “I mean, I just…” She let out a sigh. “Sometimes I don’t know what’s the same, what’s different for me, you know? Or how to… how to interpret myself in the context of this planet.” She waved her hand uselessly in front of her before dropping her half eaten pizza slice dejectedly back in the box. And then her brow furrowed, “And there are just some things I can’t ask Kal-El about, you know?”

“Oh, Kara.” Alex enveloped her sister her arms. Kara instinctively curled deeper into embrace like she had done so many times before, nestling up into the safety of her sister.

“What do I do?” Kara voice was small, weak, insecure, the very opposite of what most would expect to come from the person wearing a Super suit.

“Well, it’s not like you can date your boss.” Alex spoke into her sister’s hair, rubbing small and hopefully comforting circles across Kara’s back.

“Kal-El is with Lois,” Kara offered lamely, muffled mostly by Alex’s arm and shoulder.

“Lois Lane isn’t the Queen of All Media, nor was she ever your cousin’s boss. At least, I don’t think so anyway. And wouldn’t you want to date someone who is, I don’t know, a little bit… nicer?”

Kara only shrugged slightly before curling up further against her sister.

* * *

It was less than a month later that Supergirl once again found herself on Cat Grant’s private balcony, CatCo tower majestically reflecting the early evening light in the distance. For the middle of the autumn, it was an incredibly bright and sunny day, the kind that made Kara feel like she was literally glowing on the inside. The sun felt new, not quite taking on its dimmer, more aged appearance as it waned in the winter months. Despite this, Kara’s face was fixed in a solemn expression as she lowered herself gently onto her boss’s balcony, yet again breaking her rule against keeping a safe distance.

Cat Grant nodded in greeting, an arm crossed over her chest and her other hand clutching an amber liquid in a crystal glass. “Twice in one day. Should I invest in lottery tickets?”

“I wanted to say that I’m sorry,” Kara offered. “For your loss.”

A few days ago, Kara had noticed that Cat had gone inexplicably quiet again. Or, not so inexplicably. It took only a few minutes on the internet for Kara’s heart to plummet as she found the public notice of Molly’s memorial service. She recognized the accompanying picture from one of the many Cat had shown her.

“It’s not my loss,” Cat shook her head, though she was clearly feeling some form of grief sharply. “It’s Carter’s loss. Their loss.”

Now that she was here, Kara didn’t know what else to say. She barely knew to say the American ‘sorry for your loss.’ Even in Krypton, beyond the funeral rites, she wasn’t sure what her people said in the face of grief and thus couldn’t even use that memory to translate the sentiments coarsely into English. All the words she had half-formed while flying in the clouds had disappeared the moment she had seen Cat’s face. She hadn’t expected Cat to look so small.

“You should have stayed. Carter only saw you for a moment. Disappearing so quickly could almost make someone think they’re hallucinating from grief.”

It was true, Kara had left rather suddenly after lingering at the edges of the funeral, flying away after she had been sure that Carter (and Cat) had seen her.

“It didn’t seem safe to stay. There is already a… connection between us since you branded me. The last thing I want to do is put you in further danger by deepening this connection in the eyes of my enemies.”

“So why are you here now?” Cat raised an eyebrow in challenge as she effortlessly poked a hole in the reasonable but extremely faulty logic presented before her.

“Last time when I dropped you off, you offered me a drink. I realized later it might have you been wanting company after a hard day. I wondered if maybe it would be the same today.”

Cat tipped her glass in a mock salute. “Quick on the uptake I see.”

“I have only been on your planet for twelve years. You’ll have to excuse any faux pas, I’m still acquainting myself with your customs.”

“Twelve years?” Despite the pain, the journalistic side of Cat Grant side of sparked to life behind her eyes. “But your cousin has been on this planet considerably longer. By his own accounts, over thirty years at least.” Suddenly the math, if they were both citing the same destroyed planet, did not quite add up. Cat could sense the threads of a story calling out to her to unravel it.

“Space travel isn’t always exactly linear, Ms. Grant. It’s not as simple as hopping on a train from National City and finding yourself in another city a few hours later. There are other factors involved.” Kara winced, mentally berating herself for letting something else slip. But the thing was, she wanted things to slip. She wanted Cat to know. She wanted to trust Cat, to let her in more and more. “So, do you?”

“Do I _what_ exactly?”

“Need company?” Kara pressed, a small smile forming in the corner of her lips.

“Isn’t there… some burning building or cat stuck up a tree somewhere?” Cat waved into the night sky, careful to not spill any of her drink.

Kara tipped her head to the side, making a show of listening for some impending disaster. “If there is, I’ll hear it. But someone important to me once said that sometimes helping people wasn’t just about saving their lives. It seemed like advice I should listen to.”

Cat rolled her eyes as if it had been abundantly clear at the time that Cat hadn’t meant herself before she turned to walk back inside. “Well if you insist on staying, I suppose you’ll want that drink now as well.”

Kara followed. “The drink’s not necessary.”

Already standing at the bar, Cat’s hand hovered above an untouched glass, tilting her head slightly to look behind her. “A strict no drinking and flying policy I take it.”

“Alcohol doesn’t affect me, Ms. Grant.” Kara shook her head slightly.

Cat tutted underneath her breath. “One does not always drink for the effects, though I admit it does help.” In fact, it seemed both glorious to her and a frankly a bit of a waste. It was without further hesitation that she moved the empty glass closer before dropping two ice cubes in and pouring in a finger’s worth of the liquid before turning around and holding it out to Kara. “Consider it a… cultural experience, since you’re still so new to the planet.”

“Thank you.” Kara took the glass, careful that their hands never met in the process.

Cat dropped into one of the softer chairs in the room, looking somehow regal, powerful, and yet absolutely exhausted and even a bit demolished. When Kara merely stood, holding the glass and feeling entirely out of place, Cat tsked under her breath.

“This is where one typically takes a seat so as to not make the host feel uncomfortable.” She sounded almost annoyed, as if it was slightly vexing having to explain basic human courtesies to an alien.

Kara paused, imagining leaving a stray hair behind on one of Cat’s plush sofas, DNA that would eventually lead back to her real identity. Instead she hovered slightly off the ground, curling her legs underneath her, and adjusted her distance off the ground so she was near eye level with Cat.

“Show off.” Cat rolled her eyes.

Supergirl shrugged before taking a small sip of the alcohol. It burnt the back of her throat and she swallowed it with a grimace, holding back a slight cough. “Is this what is referred to as an acquired taste? Its… it tastes like a bandaid.”

There was a tightening around Cat’s mouth, the sign of a suppressed smile. The amusement, however, escaped into her tone just the same. “We call it peaty.”

Kara regarded her glass, seeming to shrug with her face, before attempting a second sip of the liquid to a similar result.

“So where were you all this time, taking a scenic route?” Cat inquired after a long moment of both women looking at each other.

“You could say that. Though there wasn’t much scenery where I was.” Kara took another sip with a smaller grimace as a way to stall answering. “My ship veered off course.”

Cat raised her eyebrows as if to indicate that she was waiting for more.

“I don’t remember much of that time.” Kara’s jaw involuntarily clenched. How different her life would have been if her ship had simply stayed on course.

After several long minutes and Cat returning to her chair after refilling her glass, she broke the comfortable silence that had formed. “What was it like, landing on Earth for the first time?”

“This isn’t an interview Cat Grant. I’m here as a…” As a what, a friend? An admirer? An alien? “I’m here to see if you need company.”

“This isn’t an interview,” Cat confirmed, making a gesture of crossing her heart with her hand before making a show of turning off her phone. “I’m asking as a… “ She, too, seemed search for a word. “As someone who wants to understand.”

“Then I am afraid to disappoint, Ms. Grant. There are no words in any language.” Kara shook her head, consciously trying to fight back the very Kara expressions she felt threatening to come to the surface. “I had been in my pod for over two decades when I finally landed here, a strange planet with a different atmosphere, different gravity… different everything. Even Kal-El….” Her face ran through several emotions as she spoke, several more in the spaces between words and breath. “Kal-El found me, he took me somewhere where I could recover… adjust to the physicality of this world…and then took me to a new home, a second family.” Unsure why she kept speaking except that it was always a pain on the tip of her tongue constantly threatening to brim over, Kara felt increasingly exposed and vulnerable. Her eyes sought refuge, safe space away from the curiously understanding but shocked look of Cat Grant. Kara knew that her words made her, the whole of her and her alienness more real, more solid to the woman before her and it made her nervous. Kara’s eyes fell to the balcony, finding a few birds flitting to and fro. A small, distant smile formed on her features.

“We didn’t have birds on my planet. After I landed, I would spend hours staring at them, watching them free to fly in the space between the earth and where my home once was. Even when I learned how to fly, it was never quite safe for me to join them when I was growing up. My foster sister was always reminding me to stop staring. She helped me try to be more…” Kara averted her eyes from the balcony, catching and holding Cat’s eyes as she spoke, “fit in better with the humans.”

“Kal-El?”

“Superman,” Kara explained. “That was his name on my planet.” 

“And what was your name on your planet?”

“I am also of the House of El,” Kara replied after a moment’s hesitation, her back, her body instantly a little straighter, a little prouder.

“You with your secrets and alphabets, your L’s and your S’s.” Cat rattled the ice in her glass.

“It’s not an S,” Kara corrected.

“It’s your family crest, the symbol of hope of your people,” Cat interjected with a bored recital of what she had already heard before. Despite her tone, there was a clear underlying reverence.

Kara took a sip of the liquid again, grimacing less. It still tasted of bandaids and she was no closer to understanding the appeal.

“So you have a sister,” Cat Grant spoke after several moments of silence where neither woman blinked very much, seeming to pick up the least painful thread of what had been presented to her.

Kara nodded and then, as if anticipating, added, “It’s not exactly useful information.”

“A search of people in your age range who live in National City with sisters.” Cat shrugged nonchalantly. “Might at least narrow the results. Then there is, perhaps, other little clues you’ve let slip here and there to help further narrow it down. Really Supergirl, it can’t be that hard if I tried. I do have an entire team of investigative journalists at my disposal.”

“I’ve heard that they’re some of the best. But you won’t,” Kara spoke firmly, more an observation than an order or request. “It would be a waste of resources to uncover the best headline you could never publish.”

“Who is to say I wouldn’t?” Cat swirled the amber liquid with a glint of false challenge in her eyes, not enjoying being caught out.

“You’re like me.” When Kara spoke, Cat let out a small, bitter laugh. However, Kara continued undeterred. “You believe in hope, Ms. Grant. And you believe in me, however flawed I might be. You’re smart enough to realize that outing my identity would put my family, my friends, and everyone around me in grave danger. That includes, I’m afraid, both you and Carter.”

Cat consented with a tip of her head and a raise of glass. “Touché.”

The room grew quiet again, Cat clearly searching for things to say. However, the weight of the day was pressing against her temples along with the affects of the alcohol. She closed her eyes to try to center herself, probably for a second or two too long.

“I understand if you want to sit in silence, Ms. Grant. We don’t need to talk unless you want to. Loss is never easy and this isn’t an interview.” Kara broke the silence, cutting off the thoughts racing through Cat Grant’s head.

Cat nodded, a look of gratitude flickering across her face before it was suppressed. “Thank you.”

The silence was far more comfortable than it should be, like a favorite oversized sweater. For a while, Cat let herself get distracted by the sense of alienness radiating from Supergirl. This girl, who was maybe younger but also maybe older if her timeline was to be believed, had a strange mixture of discomfort and ease in her stature, an understanding but not quite knowing look in her strange eyes. There was an innocence and a grittiness at the edge of Supergirl, a clear thirst for action and yet a complete ease in the stillness of the room. Cat tried to ponder this strange dichotomy, these multitudes and complexities, and anything else to distract her for the grief over Molly, the compassion for her son Carter, and the overwhelming gratitude and selfish relief that it wasn’t Carter that they had buried that day. For the most part, it worked before her eyes became heavy.

Cat wasn’t sure when she fell asleep exactly. When she opened her eyes, the room was dark and the balcony door, having been left open to the warm fall day, was shut against the cool autumn night. A blanket had been gently tucked around her and on the table beside her was a tall water glass, a whiskey glass full of M&Ms, and small dish with two headache tablets on it.

Taking a few M&Ms and crushing them between her teeth, Cat relished how the candy shells strained and cracked before revealing the chocolatey goodness underneath. Cat smiled softly, knowingly. It was the little things. Not just the M&Ms or the matching perfume, but the fact that Supergirl had somehow known, of all the bottles in her medicine cabinet, which tablets Cat preferred after drinking. It had become a game, collecting all the small ways her assistant revealed herself to be Supergirl.

* * *

Kara was a terrible liar. She knew this. But there were still a few lies that she could tell flawlessly, even to herself:

1\. “I’m fine.”

2\. “I’m human.”

3\. “I’m normal.”

4.She wasn’t scared senseless that in less than a year she will have lived longer on Earth than on Krypton, that she had still spent more time in the Phantom Zone than on Krypton and Earth combined.

5\. Her feelings for Cat were only a crush.

Well, almost flawlessly.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is set sometime after Episode 13: For the Girl Who Has Everything and before Episode 16: Falling, which places this before red kryptonite because that's how slow I write after I have an idea.
> 
> Special thanks to Dreiser for all her help and feedback.

Kara reached up into the sky, palm and fingers outstretched. Even as she tried to block out the strong sunlight with her hand, she hungered to be closer to it. Squinting through the brightness that slipped through her open fingers, she couldn’t help but smile, her mouth partly open in wonder. A year on this planet and this yellow sun still amazed her.

“Dude, you’re going to go blind if you keep staring up at the sun like that,” the voice behind her warned as it beckoned her back to the school courtyard.

Kara turned around, shifting her attention to Zachary and his rapidly beating heart. His heartbeat confused her, it was not unlike when Ms. Ochs called on him in class when he clearly didn’t know the answer. It didn’t make sense why it would be beating like that now. Until recently, he rarely spoke to her and when he did his heartbeat had remained regular, constant. But now his heart beat quickened. For some reason, it seemed almost like a secret, his heartbeat, and Kara had been too shy to ask the Danvers. Besides humans didn’t hear heartbeats. They might not even know the answer.

Kara focused on sifting the sound out, trying instead to focus on his freckled face. It was partially obscured by a shadow of the sun’s brightness tracking across her vision and for a moment she was distracted, caught in trying to remember. She knew the word for the sun’s after image in Kryptonian. She could even explain how the basic phenomenon worked in her non-accented English. But she didn’t know the English word for the temporary blindness that had already started to fade. Over the past year, Kara had realized that there were countless words and phrases that did not, could not have a direct translation into any Earth language.

“Seriously?” Kara frowned slightly in response, unsure if what Zachary had said was true, unsure of his heartbeat, and unsure of what was expected of her in this interaction. It seemed unlikely that permanent blindness from staring at the yellow sun was one of the things the Danvers family would have forgotten to warn her about. Not that important but obvious things didn’t escape their explanations. Alternatively, it could be just another thing humans said, like ‘your face is going to freeze that way’ and ‘don’t put all your eggs in the same basket.’ Not that it brought Kara any closer to understanding Zachary. So she had to rely on the strange word seriously. It’s exact meaning eluded her, but Kara had recently learned the word’s usefulness in deflecting when she didn’t understand something.

As she waited for his reply to see if she had responded correctly, Kara adjusted her glasses slightly so that the boy was almost entirely within her field of vision that passed through her lead frames. Only the edges of him, his ankles and below and two fingers on his left hand, remained an off-colored skeleton. The sensory overload of the school’s courtyard was still too much to keep her vision entirely under control at all times.

“You’re such a weirdo.” Zachary rolled his eyes and walked off, rejoining his friends on the other side of the courtyard.

Kara’s frown deepened as he walked away, his heart rate already slowing down. She had been staring again or failed to respond accordingly. It wouldn’t be hard to figure out exactly why they were rolling their eyes and laughing this time, but she had learned that this kind of lesson seemed to sting more than help. Before she heard his heartbeat return to normal, she had filtered out most of the noise around her.

Learning the cues, all the strange call and responses was considerably harder than learning English vocabulary and grammar. They didn’t always make logical sense, like how people asked how you were but didn’t want an actual answer. And none of the books in the Danvers library had given any hints on how to respond to ‘wassup.’ Jeremiah had tried to teach her knock knock jokes before his latest business trip despite Alex’s insistence that even Kara was too old for them now. It hadn’t gone well. Kara had playfully insisted that she shouldn’t have to ask who’s there because she could see through doors. After Jeremiah had insisted that Kara put on her glasses so he could tell the joke, Alex had interjected that she had Joke-Ray vision and could see through to the end of the joke and that the punchline wasn’t that funny. It had then devolved into father-daughter banter between Alex and Jeremiah, the kind that made Kara’s heart ache.

While his schedule when traveling was nowhere near clockwork, Jeremiah should be returning within a few days. She wanted to ask if it was possible for him to make her a second pair of glasses, ones with larger frames. The glasses he gave her had helped enormously, but her X-Ray vision was still disorienting when she’d lose focus for a moment. The whole world would be cleaved in two, split between the rational world tucked neatly behind her frames and the vibrating innards of seeing the world almost too clearly, too thoroughly.

When she had first landed, Kal-El had promised to help her focus and control her new powers. In disjointed Kryptonian he had diligently taught her how to filter out the loud din of the human world to a dimmer, more reasonable volume. He showed her how to focus, how to open up to the wider world without letting all of it crash down upon her. When the sensory overload receded and the world no longer threatened to so readily and violently flood past her edges and walls, Kara was able to have her first concrete thought that extended beyond ‘make it stop.’

After he had demonstrated various coping techniques for when the world would get to be too much, Kara started to believe that she could do this. That whatever this new planet was, maybe it would be possible. She would always owe her cousin those first moments of initial peace, a debt she could never begin to repay.

Once she had uncurled from her fetal position, she began to painfully shake off the decades that seemed to nearly weld her bones into a weak yet unmovable mass. Even as she stumbled and with her legs trembling beneath her, Kal-El began the much slower lessons on how to calibrate her strength. It had seemed strange at first, her body trying to remember how to make a fist and hold on to something while her cousin kept telling her to do everything softly, lightly. By the time she moved in with the Danvers, she knew how to close doors without compromising the structural integrity of their home but still didn’t trust herself to hug back. Even shaking hands could be disastrous.

The better her English became and the less objects she broke, the more she learned to smile and the less her cousin visited. It went from daily, to a few times a week, to only weekends, and then just sometimes. Kara knew he visited when he could and with the irregularity that he explained was part of a reporter’s schedule. Kara trusted that he’d help when he could and never once pushed it. While she had been suspended in the Phantom Zone, her cousin had become an important man to an entire planet. She was just one on this planet of many.

As much as she missed her cousin, secretly she found she didn’t mind the spaces between his visits. They were strangers after all and it always felt strained, these visits, these lessons. It was better now that they spoke solely in English, but with two languages between them there was so much that went unsaid. The words would remain suspended between them, lost in translation and caught between one star and the next connecting Krypton’s void to Earth’s reality.

She felt trapped whenever he came, distracted but also jealous and useless. She couldn’t help but wonder who had shown everything to him or if he had been forced to figure it all out on his own. Had it been hard for him growing up on Earth not knowing who he really was or what he had lost? Had he felt drained and empty inside, but also so full of excitement when he could finally touch another human being without fear of bruising them or breaking their bones? Or had his lessons been slower, taking an almost unnoticed shape since he had been learning this almost since birth? Would Kara have been able to teach him better or, if she had landed with him, would she have only made it harder for him?

At times she caught Kal-El looking at her with a hopeful nervousness, like at any minute she’d confirm his alienness and validate the differentness that he must have undoubtedly felt his entire life. Her cousin would pause, carefully examine her face and wait, as if she could, if only given enough time, say the magical combination of words that would let Kal-El know that yes, he was Kryptonian enough and that his biological parents, who had sacrificed so much, would be proud. Other times, he seemed distant and wary, overly cautious that she would label him an imposter and judge him for being too human.

But while Kal-El looked to her for approval, Kara was only a child overcome with guilt that she had betrayed her cousin. She had been unable to fulfill her mission, she broke her last promise to her parents. His garbled accent and his cobbled together understanding of their culture, his American interpretations of Rao sticking out at odd angles from his painfully broad generalizations? Her fault, her failure. She didn’t need to wonder if he had spent nights feeling different and confused because she had those nights now. It was lonely to realize there was no one who could share her experience in this. Not even the last of her family.

Culturally, her cousin was painfully human. That, more than anything, created the distance between them. The cultures they had grown up in were alien to one another and that was one thing neither cousin knew how to fix.

She had one mission and she failed. And now neither cousin could be what the other one wanted or needed.

And so Kal-El visited less and less. Kara begged off dwindling invitations to visit the Kents in Smallville who had fulfilled her mission for her. With school, it was easy to find reasons to never stay with Kal-El and Lois in Metropolis or to see his so-called Fortress of Solitude where he housed all that remained of their lost world. Even the name itself struck Kara to her core.

Instead, she turned more and more towards the Danvers. They were less expectant, less complicated than her cousin. It wasn’t that they were more patient or more supportive, but they were there for her in a different way and without the weight of family.

She had never struggled with school until Earth. The weeks leading up to her first day of Earth school had been tense and exhausting, the Danvers constantly explaining and quizzing her on what a twelve year old human girl was supposed to know, things that Kal-El couldn’t help with. Earth history and science, who Justin Timberlake was, how you had to raise your hand if you had either an answer or a question, what people were referring to when they said just let them eat cake, and why she should never say House of Danvers.

Perhaps that period wouldn’t have been so stressful if Kara had put more effort in from the start. Over the summer when Eliza’s concerned look took on the serious glint of someone with a mission, Kara had tried out of politeness. She had tried out of respect for her parents to pay attention to these early lessons from her foster parent, but found she couldn’t focus during the initial frantic attempts to passably humanize her. It was only the fear of the other children, of upsetting the Danvers, of disappointing her own parents that finally inspired Kara to try to pay better attention and retain the information.

Her goals, her hopes, they shrunk down to something dimmer and seemingly achievable. Trying to fit in while attempting to lead a normal human life. To be able to wake up and go to the bathroom without being faced with the walking, talking skeleton that was her foster sister. To be able to return a hug without an ear fearfully attuned to the ever present possibility of breaking a rib. Even these sometimes still seemed an insurmountable challenge most days.

When Zachary and his friends moved further into the courtyard, Kara pulled her notebook from her bag. In slow, careful penmanship, she wrote the words ‘go blind from the sun’ below several other lines she had written earlier in the day. The English alphabet, while growing more familiar, still felt alien in her hand. Or human in her alien hand. Her handwriting differed in slight ways from the other children, she still slopped it a bit too much to the left and out of habit she still formed her loops and circles from the side as opposed to the top or the bottom. The differences and the lingering discomfort were slight but noticeable, still a forgery at fluency, but an improving forgery nonetheless.

She tapped her pen against the day’s list: when pigs fly, Sputnik, Tallahassee, once in a blue moon, Geronimo, arbitrary, everything copacetic, and go blind from the sun. As far as lists go, today’s was particularly short. It was a growing point of pride, the gradual shrinking of her daily lists that she’d bring out during dinner. It had become a family tradition that had once bled into the hours afterwards. Sometimes it even became a bedtime story: what was a microwave, who was Santa, why was it kind to rewind, just how many World Wars were there and why?

Kara didn’t look up when she heard someone sit down besides her. She didn’t need to. Even if she didn’t instantly recognize the heartbeat, there weren’t many kids who sat next to her during lunch.

A familiar finger tapped on the phrase at the top of her list. “That means never. Pigs are the fat, pink farm yard animals, remember? With the small curly tail and the snout?”

Kara looked up to see her foster sister playfully pressing a finger up against her nose to illustrate the word snout for her. Kara laughed. It worked. Kara remembered pigs. There was that absolutely ludicrous song about a man with a farm that garbled earth animal noises and vowel sounds all together. Jeremiah had tried singing it once but everyone, Kara included, had protested.

Alex grinned, proud that she had made Kara laugh. “They can’t fly. So when someone tells you that something will happen when pigs fly, it means you have to wait for the impossible first.”

“So, never.” Kara’s expression turned serious. Alex could almost see Kara trying to memorize the idiom on the spot. Next to the English word, Kara quickly scrawled a Kryptonian equivalent with lighter pencil marks.

“What does that word mean?” Alex inquired, peering closer to the notebook.

“When pigs fly.” Kara’s reply was shy, tentative but lined with a playful kind of hope.

“Ok, well how do you say when pigs fly?” Alex rolled her eyes affectionately, lightly shoving Kara. Kara softened at the contact, allowing herself to be nudged slightly off center. She had seen Jeremiah and Alex exchange this form of affection countless times, but until that moment had only been witness to it. It was one that she hungrily accepted.

With great concentration, Kara returned the gesture, her smile nearly beaming as bright as the Earth’s sun when Alex only swayed slightly, no grimace, no harsh landing to the ground. Just right.

And then, as if nothing special had happened, Alex leaned over Kara’s notebook and tried to sound the word out based on what Kara had already shown her, slurring the sounds together in all the wrong ways, applying a strange Earthen rhythm to Kryptonian cadences. It had become almost a game the past couple months, this slow repetition, the back and forth, the exchanging of English meanings for Kryptonian words. Kara would say the word in full, and then again slower a few times before Alex would try it out. Kara would patiently correct, adjust before Alex would try again. Slowly, Alex would carve away at the syllables, becoming close and then closer to forming the intended word. Never exact, human lungs, human muscles didn’t seem capable of forming Kryptonian words completely. Over time, Kara realized that there were lost sounds that she wasn’t even sure they could hear let alone repeat. But it still felt like a dim, welcoming echo of home.

* * *

James and Winn amicably bantered back and forth as Winn explained the most recent game he started playing, allowing Kara to keep her attention primarily locked on the large and the now mostly empty box of donuts sitting on the table between them. There was no specific reason to gather in their secret lair of the commandeered empty office, but James had texted he had gotten donuts. It was like a cigarette break with significantly less fresh air and nicotine and far more well-needed and delicious calories. Kara kept half an ear on Cat as she took upon herself the very important task of eating almost all the donuts. But now she was faced with the all too common dilemma of what to do with the last one.

“Then it hit me and I realized that it was this whole ‘the enemy’s gate is down’ scenario. After that, easy peasy,” Winn concluded the story with triumphant snap of his fingers before he realized he had once again uttered the phrase ‘easy peasy’ in public and his face dropped slightly.

But James simply lifted his hand for a congratulatory high five. In this moment of camaraderie, they turned to Kara, expecting to see her join in. Instead, she simply stared back, mouth full of the penultimate donut, and not a clue about what they were talking about.

“The enemy’s gate is down,” Winn repeated as if this was the key to Kara’s lack of understanding, as if somehow, despite her hearing, she had simply misheard him.

Kara swallowed the last of the donut and took a half-hearted stab of at least pretending she knew what was going on. “Down what? Down the street?”

“Ender’s Game? The enemy’s gate is down?” Winn insisted, confused at Kara’s confusion. As he continued to elaborate, she only shook her head. “Sci-fi classic about kids preparing for an interstellar war against space bugs by playing near inhumane war games? Granted, it was written by a Mormon which kind of puts a damper on the whole thing but…. Still a classic.”

“I never read sci-fi or fantasy growing up,” Kara explained self-consciously as she licked the frosting off her index finger, completely oblivious to the effect it had on Winn and James.

Taking a second to recover, Winn furrowed his eyes in confusion, having trouble picturing such a childhood. “Seriously?”

“At first it was just confusing? I didn’t know what was human and what was imaginary. We were afraid I’d say something, you know, alien at school. I couldn’t really walk around Midvale High asking people where they parked _their_ spaceships.” Kara laughed before scrunching her nose in response to Winn’s continued staring. “And then when I got more settled, it was… I don’t know, kind of annoying.” Kara made a face, knowing she was treading the line of sacrilege with her friend.

She didn’t mention that Star Wars was carefully avoided in her house for years since Eliza had been utterly convinced that the scene where the planet was destroyed would be too triggering for Kara. It was only in college that Kara saw it. Instead of being devastated, she found the whole thing rather distracting, like a flimsy cardboard cut out of her old reality. It was if no one involved in the movie knew the first thing about space travel, which was of course true, but it made it hard to watch just the same.

“Kind of annoying?” Winn repeated slowly, as if his ears were greatly deceiving him and carefully emphasizing every syllable was the only way to discern what Kara had actually said.

“I mean, come on. The ship design on Star Trek is laughably unrealistic. It would snap into a million pieces if it tried to do half the things it supposedly did in the first few episodes alone. And lightsabers? It was like no one was even trying to consider how a cooling system was necessary or any of the actual properties of laser. None of it really seems thought through at all.” Kara gestured with her hands, trying to persuade her friends to what was so painfully obvious to her. However, seeing the reaction of the boys, especially Winn, she realized that perhaps that this wasn’t common knowledge. She quickly added with an apologetic grimace, “At least in terms of Kryptonian technology… you know, it could be different later when humans…” Kara decided it was better to stop talking and finally just gave a half-hearted shrug.

Winn sputtered, looking at Kara as if she had spoken true and apparent blasphemy against everything he held to be holy in this world. Kara slid her glasses back up her nose. It was like he had forgotten and only now just remembered that she was a real live alien, that she was born on an entirely different planet and had arrived on Earth on an actual spaceship.

“So what did you read, Kara?” James scooted a little closer on his office chair.

“Encyclopedia Britannica.”

“I mean for fun?” James clarified with a half smile.

“Encyclopedia Britannica,” Kara repeated, knowing exactly how it sounded. “I had a lot of catching up to do.”

One of the things Kara truly and generally appreciated about both James and Winn is that they knew her secret and yet treated her like any other girl. To them she was a human girl with special powers. Kara had to remind herself that not even James should know better. After all, Kal-El was essentially a human with special powers. Krypton was a world, a culture he gained later, something new that he hadn’t even initially known was lost. But Kara was an alien who only looked human. Krypton was her home, lost and to be remembered and honored by her actions. Earth was her new world, America a culture she had to learn quickly and at the continual expense of her own.

But all that sacrifice, all the collisions and fissures between Earth and Krypton, Kara purposefully kept under the surface. So of course they wouldn’t know. The sunny Kara Danvers, created from bits and pieces of herself mixed with Earth soil, was originally for Eliza’s benefit to smooth over the deep lines of worry, especially after Jeremiah never came back. Her friends seemed to take Kara Danvers and Supergirl at face value, as if these parts of her were two halves to her whole, more her fault than theirs.

Only Alex had seen and tended to the cracks and the shaking hinges of where Kara Zor-El blended with and broke apart from Kara Danvers.

“You spent your childhood reading the Encyclopedia Britannica?” James smiled fondly, as if it was something cute and quirky. A ‘that’s so Kara’ thing instead of just what it was: a panicked alien researching their new planet desperately.

“I read a lot of history books and autobiographies too.” Kara felt herself go into full babble. “It wasn’t just encyclopedias. I branched out into some historical fiction in college, which was all right but you really have to be aware of author bias.” As both her friends looked at her like she was a huge dork, she exhaled slowly, a self conscious but relieved smile spreading across her features expertly forming the full sunny Kara Danvers experience. “I mean, come on. Earth was a new and exciting planet. I wanted to know everything there was to know.”

Winn looked like he had slowly started to become unbroken. “That is so cool. So you like, what, read all of them?”

“Not all of them. That’d be weird, wouldn’t it? Who reads _all_ the Encyclopedia Britannicas?” She laughed nervously before quietly admitting as casually as possible, “I only read the 15 th edition. So just, like, 32 volumes.”

Both boys sputtered.

“What, it’s not like I read the whole dictionary or anything?” Kara decided that now was not the time to admit that this wasn’t from lack of trying. “Ms. Grant is calling me.” As she spoke, she stood up and indicated to the last donut hungrily with her eyes.

James nodded and after the slightest of hesitations Winn assented as well. “See you upstairs, Kara.”

Kara raised a victorious fist before snatching the donut with glee and dashing out into the hallway. By the time the elevator doors opened to Cat calling Kara’s name, the donut was gone, a sugary memory on her tongue. Before Cat’s initial tirade could be replaced with another about having to repeat herself incessantly, Kara strode into her office, clutching her tablet across her body.

“Yes Ms. Grant?”

“Have you seen these proofs?” Cat rested a hand on her hip and gave a dismissive gesture in the general direction of what Kara could only assume were the less than satisfactory proofs sprawled across her desk.

“I believe they were handed to you directly at the end of the staff meeting,” Kara tried to keep her tone neutral. It was the first Tuesday of the month. Kara never previewed the proofs on the first Tuesday of the month, a tradition she was constantly trying to revise. While Kara couldn’t come close to foreseeing and preventing every offensive thing to cross Cat’s desk in the guise of a proof ready for approval, she could identify the more onerous ones and generally prevent the carnage that might otherwise result. Except on the first Tuesday of every month.

“You’re a millennial,” Cat Grant continued in her general tone of observational displeasure.

“I, I am,” Kara confirmed, not quite sure where her boss was going, if Cat had changed subjects entirely or if she would somehow circle back around to the subpar proofs.

“Well, maybe you can help me understand.” Cat whipped off her glasses, as if the ability to see had become too much of a cross to bear, and jabbed heartily at the offending proofs with her glasses.

Kara warily approached the desk and instantly made a face. No wonder Ms. Grant was displeased.

“Well?” Cat coaxed, moving to stand only a few inches away from Kara. Kara closed her eyes, trying not to let this sudden proximity mean anything, but she still found herself trying to breath Cat in just the same and allowed herself a moment’s enjoyment of listening to Cat’s heartbeat. It seemed slightly faster than normal, probably in irritation.

“It looks like an Instagram filter.” Kara looked up, surprised at how little the space really was between their bodies. “And, uh, not in a cool way.”

“While I could have said it better myself, you’re not wrong.” Cat let out a short but melodramatic sigh and walkedback around to the other side of her desk. Kara let out a small exhale at the space, not sure if she missed it more than she was relieved. “Please take these back. Explain that I expect them to actually do their jobs and stop tempting me into replacing their entire department with interns whose parents still pay for their iPhones.”

Kara nodded, scooping up the proofs. “Right away, Ms. Grant.”

“And don’t soften it this time, Kiera. I know you soften it.”

Kara nodded again and continued to walk outside.

“Kiera.”

Something in Cat’s voice made Kara stop and turn back. “Yes?”

“What do you see out there?” Cat nodded out her window.

Kara tipped her head slightly to take in the view, feeling the warmth of the sun coming through the glass. Unconsciously, she smiled and licked her lips. “I…” She paused, not sure how to answer. Cat had seemed somewhat less distant since Molly’s funeral, but not overtly or obviously so. It was still shaky ground she stood on. But Kara had to say something and long gone were the days when she could escape such situations with a poorly placed seriously. She finally settled on: “Not an Instagram filter, Ms. Grant.”

Cat seemed somewhat satisfied with the answer, sitting down and selecting a different pair of glasses. She slid them over her face, her eyes magnified ever so slightly, and she seemed to carefully examine Kara for a second. Kara self-consciously reached up to play with her hair before remembering that she had it held back tightly in a bun. Her hand returned back to where it had rested before against the proofs and her tablet.

“Your perfume… it almost makes up for that hideous cardigan. Almost.”

“Thanks. You, uh, actually gave it to me, after the spring Metropolis Fashion Week. I mean, you kind of flung it at me, or lightly tossed rather.” The last bit was muttered, more to herself than to Cat.

“Did I?” Cat tipped her head to the side, slightly frowning as if she had no memory of the event. “Hm. Well that was rather charitable of me.”

“It was, thank you.” Kara nodded slowly, twisting her fingers. Underneath Cat’s watchful eye, a self conscious smile was tentatively forming, taking root much stronger on one side of Kara’s face than the other. As if weighted down by this uneven expression, Kara tipped her head to the side. Odd though it was, this was their most normal conversation since Cat’s “let’s keep it professional” ultimatum.

“Well, the idiots won’t yell at themselves. Sadly.” Cat had returned her attention to the budgets Kara had dropped of earlier. Red wax pencil already in hand, she gestured dismissively towards the door. “Scurry along. And when you’re done, another latte and my lunch.”

* * *

In the end, it was the perfume.

There had been so many little reveals and confessions along the way and far too many coincidences that it almost seemed anti-climatic.

* * *

Cat hadn’t always loved mornings. When she was younger and hungry, she had stayed out late striving to be seen but mostly to see, a habit that had made mornings a jumble of hours. Mornings had been more of a thing to be a trudged through, an affair to be survived with the assistance of copious amounts of caffeine alone.

But now she relished the quiet solitude. Wrapped in her bathrobe and tucked away from the world, she’d catch up on whatever report had escaped her attention during the flurry of meetings from the day before or even, in a fit of pure decadence, flip through an article for pleasure, a short story perhaps. A novel was often too ambitious with her empire, not that she’d ever let her mother know that. More than that, though, the mornings were her own private viewing of the sunrise. It was a dark day indeed when she didn’t look up. Even on the morning she realized her last marriage was over, she had looked up and had allowed herself that one small joy.

By the time she coaxed her sleepy boy from his bed, the sun was established in the sky and the reports were read and placed aside. She could devote all her attention to Carter as she pretended to not be one of those overly gushy mothers who would stare at their child with wonder as they did something so miraculously mundane as eating cereal and spilling orange juice on the counter.

It was a short drive to Carter’s school. Even on the most rushed mornings, it always felt far too short. After dropping him off, with a farewell that shortened as he grew older, Cat’s focus sharpened and narrowed. By the time her driver pulled up to CatCo, Cat had neatly tucked away her noticeable soft edges. She rode up her personal elevator with a buzzing anticipation for the day, using the twenty floor rise to once again trick, convince, confirm, and remind herself that she could take on the world, that she already had, that she won, and that she could do so again. She turned the what ifs and the inner doubts into what nexts, why nots, and of courses all with a subtle shift in her shoulders and a tilt in her chin. The perpetual inner monologue of her mother’s voice was hushed to an almost inaudible whisper by the time the elevator dinged.

And oh, how Cat loved how the elevator doors would open and send her staff into a flurry! While she would never see the calmer, more relaxed pace that preceded her arrival, she could still feel the drowsiness of her staff evaporate in her presence as they tumbled into hyperdrive. It was invigorating and intoxicating. Affirming.

Then there was the way her fingers would sometimes brush Kara’s as she reached for her latte… Almost as much as her desperately needed caffeine, Cat found she looked forward to seeing the enigma that was her assistant.

Cat Grant had sat on her throne as Queen of All Media for so long that people had become complacent. They forgot what her kingdom was built upon and she let them. Not only her cutting writing skills, not just her well-sharpened business acumen, of course, but also her ability to see, to look, to observe, and to find the story hidden underneath. They took her use of incorrect names at face value, assuming that she didn’t care, that she wasn’t paying attention. But Cat Grant had long ago mastered the art of hiding in plain sight. It was survival basics when Katherine Grant was your mother.

She had long learned how to survive in a world where she was discounted and ignored. All she had to do was twist it to her benefit until she was too successful to be ignored. Even success provided a new disguise.

Like a magician, she’d distract with a barb here to hide a pain over there, a deflection to the left to hide her interest in what lay to her right. She constructed hard edges to protect the softness underneath, an iron facade of not caring. She had long stopped trying to take her mother proud of her, had long given up on any form of affection or a minimal outpouring of caring from her. Cat Grant wasn’t stupid, no matter what Katherine Grant might insinuate.

But that didn’t stop Cat from trying to analyze, assess, and fix whatever it was inherent in her that might make her unlovable or insignificant, afraid that she might somehow pass it on to her son. Until she could figure it out, until she knew it was fixed or dealt with, Cat stuttered at letting people in. In the spaces between the fits and jolts at her attempts of intimacy, she hunted down that fatal flaw that had eluded her detection for so long. Personally, her continual striving for perfection made her a bit of a disaster. Professionally, it had allowed her to build an empire and guaranteed that she almost always got her story eventually.

With Kara it had simply taken longer.

Admittedly, Kara had been confounding Cat since her job interview when had she outright lied. Not special. Please. Kara was a walking, talking remedial course on how to hide in plain sight. It was what had intrigued Cat in the first place. For all her powers of observation, Cat couldn’t figure out what exactly Kara was hiding. Or why. Even after near two years of closely watching, examining, and scrutinizing her nearly unflappable assistant with a focus she hadn’t experienced since her early days of journalism, Kara eluded Cat with a laugh here, a smile there, and a strange and unreadable expression that would be quickly buried under ten others.

Cat couldn’t quite find all the misfitting pieces, let alone jam them together to form anything but the haziest of hypothesis. But they were there, the hints and whispers that there was something altogether uniquely special about Kara Danvers that surpassed her perplexingly sunny disposition. It was there in her beaming smile and sad eyes, flashes of something that would quickly recede. Or it’d be in a gesture in her hand or how she’d nervously adjust the glasses on her face. It was a secret that longed to be discovered, calling and beckoning to Cat.

By proxy, Cat was forced to watch the boys that circled around her bashful puppy of an assistant. Cat watched her otherwise brilliant and attractive Art Director dither between the two women who fawned over him like a poor plot line on those teen dramas Carter had luckily shown no real interest in so far. And yet, despite Kara’s moon eyes in James’ direction, Cat never felt threatened. Cat recognized the type of people they were to each other, the relationships that always hovered at the edges struggling against wrong time, wrong place until maturity finally made it clear that they were only ever meant to be just friends. Or at least, Cat fooled herself into believing that.

And then there was Winn. It was a shame he was so good at his job, denying Cat any viable reason for having him fired. Sadly being “a nice guy” had yet to become a legally sound reason to terminate an employee. Cat had repeatedly learned the hard way long ago that men like Winn typically weren’t nice or sweet or kind, at least not for the sake of being nice or sweet or kind. Their acts of generosity and their supportive words often came with a hidden price that was tallied in private and compounded with interest until the fateful day when they would demand to be paid. And if they never turn into foul debt collectors, they would always wait in the shadows, like pathetic golem-like creatures, growing increasingly bitter clutching a rapidly growing scoresheet of ‘why not me?’. As much as it pained Cat to admit, there was nothing she could really do. It was an important life lesson that she would probably have to let Kara learn on her own.

So Cat sat and watched through the glass walls of her office, burdened with knowing that it wouldn’t go well. She comforted herself that if it was ever brought to a head and showed even the slightest disruption at work, Cat would jump at the first excuse to fire the annoyingly talented IT hobbit.

Until then, all Cat could do was revel is his clear and apparent fear of her. Glaring at him through the bullpen wouldn’t improve a week of bad numbers or show him the errors of his “nice guy friend zone” delusions, but it could at least remind Cat to enjoy the simple things in life.

It had been a shocking April morning, somewhere between the elevator doors opening and being handed her latte, that Cat realized she had turned into a horrible cliche of a midlife crisis. It was one thing to find your considerably younger assistant attractive, but to develop actual feelings? Cat had expected better of herself, she really did.

It was, of course, the perfume. The bottle had seemed innocuous enough, nestled at the bottom of some goodie bag or another after Metropolis Fashion Week. It was a scent of a new designer that, from the tacky bottle alone, Cat assumed she wouldn’t like. Instead of tossing it immediately, however, curiosity had gotten the best of her. She wanted to know just how god awful she’d find it. But she didn’t hate it, not even close.

It seemed so utterly Kara that she had tossed the bottle at her assistant in an offhanded manner the next day despite deliberating for hours over whether it was appropriate. When Kara had shown up the following day wearing the lightest breeze of the scent, Cat blamed the flush on her cheeks on the A/C vents and made Kara spend several hours having maintenance come to her office to inspect an imaginary problem. Cat had gone home berating herself, vowing to ignore the growing warmth and affection in her chest until it simply went away.

Cat was many things, a requirement of being a rich and powerful businesswoman. She would even be one of the first to admit, at least internally and entirely off the record, that sometimes she was also a bit of a fool.

But in this case, she would have to play the fool. After all, there was no way she could act on her attraction. There were such things as ethics and sexual harassment policies. It would really be best if she promoted Kara to a more than well deserved position far, far away since Cat couldn’t, in good conscience, fire one the best assistants she’s ever had. Only out of pure selfishness did Cat hold Kara back to keep her close, arguably no better than a golem herself.

It was several months later when she realized the full truth of it all. This wasn’t a normal midlife crisis. She had wandered right onto the pages of a lesbian sci-fi pulp fiction novel that was poised to go disastrously wrong because of course Cat Grant would hire Supergirl to be her assistant. It was a horrible mess of a situation. All that was missing was a green man from Mars to round the whole thing out.

Of course, unlike Supergirl, Cat’s hypothesis wasn’t entirely bulletproof. To this day, Cat wasn’t quite sure how to explain Kara and Supergirl briefly being in the same room at the same time together. However she developed a decent enough idea after Bizarro. The inkling of the disturbing theory was further cemented later when someone clearly not Kara masqueraded around as her assistant for a few hours. Whole milk, alligator tears, and a cheap knock off slouch? Had this imposter even met Kara?

Then there was the drone incident outside the hospital. Cat told herself it was for safety and a vague fear of heights that she pressed herself unnecessarily close to Supergirl as she was flown across the city. It was there, nestled in Supergirl’s neck, that Cat found her undeniable proof on top of a mountain of evidence: Kara’s perfume.

It was so clearly recognizable, having smelled it every morning since April. Kara probably never realized how unique, how rare it was. The designer never made it much past fashion week after having failed to raise the necessary capital funds. The scent was discontinued with little fanfare a month after that spring’s fashion week. The chances that Supergirl, who clearly had little interest in fashion if her costume was anything to go by, would wear the exact same rare designer scent as Kara Danvers were too minuscule, the coincidences were too great.

What Cat didn’t know was what to do with this information.

After all, Cat was not one to tolerate liars. It was why she became a journalist in the first place. She built CatCo’s foundations and destroyed countless relationships upon a hatred for liars and subterfuge. Loyalty and integrity were not hollow phrases to be repeated at the start of every department and board meeting. Cat didn’t insist on having those very words printed on company letterhead as some small, ingenious way to slowly chip away at her own profit margins. She wanted, craved, demanded that such honesty guide everything CatCo Worldwide Media did.

And yet, here was Kara, who had been outright lying since the moment she first stepped in Cat Grant’s office. Not special? Please.

Yet all Cat could do was sit quietly with this knowledge, the best headline she would never publish. She was forced to play along with the deceit and, for now, allow Kara this one lie. It didn’t mean that she was happy about it.

In exchange for her silence, all Cat wanted was for National City to have its disasters on a schedule that didn’t conflict so much with CatCo’s publishing deadlines. But that was an impossibly lofty dream when she had to share her assistant with an entire city. In the very least, Kara could slip them a tip of where she was going from time to time.

If not only for the ratings and subscriptions, but for Cat’s anxiety level as well. It was one thing when Kara’s well timed disappearances coincided with some National City disaster or another, allowing Cat to monitor from a distance. It was another entirely when there was no burning building that made it to the news. Cat was left wondering what Kara was doing instead, where she was, and if she was safe.

Cat was only human and she worried, perhaps more than she should, for the girl of the steel. There was no way of properly explaining to her primitive biological processes that stirred up feelings of dread that Kara was bulletproof and nearly invincible. Thousands of years of human evolution didn’t understand alien superheroes. Even if it did, there was still that little voice reminding Cat that she had seen Kara with a broken arm, with a cold. Even titans could fall.

It was a thought Cat avoided when Kara had disappeared that afternoon and had yet to return with no breaking news story in sight about her girl in blue. The sun had set hours ago and with it the realization that Kara would unlikely return to CatCo that evening. Still Cat remained on her balcony, her attention torn between the dark, empty skies and the news blaring through the open door leading back to her office.

Finally, relinquishing the hold of her foolish ridiculousness, Cat stood up and returned to her office, closing the door firmly behind her. It was yet another night without Carter, time she would have normally not granted her ex-husband if it had not been for Molly. Cat knew she should take advantage of the night to catch up on the latest reports from the marketing data analysts who claimed to have discovered some new trend in Millennial media consumption. She should at least try to read it before pouring herself that third scotch.

Predictably, the charts and graphs couldn’t hold her attention. She swore the data analysts only changed the colors and slightly shifted the axis each month. In the comfort of an empty office, Cat adjusted the glasses on her face, leaning back in her chair in a way she never would with employees present, and chewed on another pair of glasses, her thoughts returning to Kara Danvers until it was nearly midnight.

Finally, with a heavy sigh, Cat dropped the extra pair of glasses on the desk before plucking the first pair off her face and sending them skidding to the edge of her desk. If Kara returned in the morning, she would right the glasses, lining them up to make it seem as if this small bout of frustration never happened. Cat stood up, ignoring the faint cracking of her back as she stretched, and readied her bag. Was Kara home, tucked safely in bed, while Cat was still up worrying about her like a fool?

Closing her office door and walking out into the bullpen, Cat hoped that whatever disaster her assistant had dashed off to prevent had managed to at least destroy the cotton blend travesty from earlier. No one had the right to look that good in those cardigans.

The brownouts from the August heat waves were still fresh on Cat’s mind and the flickering of the office lights didn’t immediately trouble her. If anything, when Cat looked up at the trembling lights above, it merely brought about a groan of frustration that she’d once again have to walk the twenty flights down to her car.

Then with a near blinding flash of white, Cat was engulfed in a darkness that could only be found at the top of the world during a blackout. The frustration rising within her chest quickly devolved into pure panic at the sound of shattering glass. Her eyes struggled to adjust, to make out anything in the darkness. As she felt another body pressing up against her, pulling her to the floor and maneuvering her underneath Kara’s desk, Cat’s first thought was Leslie. Pinned to the ground, Cat would have even attempted to fight back somehow if it wasn’t for the faintest whisper of perfume.

Before Cat dared opening her eyes, she was painfully aware of her position and how she was being straddled by Supergirl. Slowly she looked up, her eyes adjusting the darkness, the silhouette of Supergirl forming, the brightness of her eyes piercing through the darkness. Cat’s voice temporarily left her body as Supergirl reached out and ever so gently placed her fingers across Cat’s lips. Supergirl then mirrored the gesture across her own lips, making a shushing sound so quiet Cat wasn’t entirely sure she had actually heard it.

Slowly, with a violent flicker and snap of electricity, the televisions in her office came to life, filling the silent void between the two women.

“Here kitty kitty…”

Cat rolled her eyes at the tired joke, but following Supergirl’s request, remained quiet.

Livewire cajoled and called out to Cat, the repeated snaps in the air signaling her rapid return to and dissolving from the corporeal form that more closely resembled the angry young woman Cat once knew. Cat remained still, unable to speak, barely able to breathe and fearful that her heartbeat would betray her, not to Leslie but to Supergirl, whose body remained so tightly pressed up against her own. Silently, they waited, their eyes locked on each other with neither woman able break contact and look away.

Finally in a fit of frustration and what sounded like a bout of unnecessary destruction of property preceding the familiar snap, the floor was flooded in a deafening silence that grew beyond seconds into minutes. Neither woman made a motion to move. Perhaps it was out of fear that Livewire might return, that Livewire was merely waiting them out now, her feet propped up on Cat’s desk.

Deeper than that was the fear that movement in any way would signal an acknowledgement of their current position, of how Supergirl’s thighs pressed against either side of Cat’s hips, of how Cat’s hand had been resting on the small of Supergirl’s back underneath her cape for an increasingly unnecessary amount of time.

“Is this how you say hello on your planet?” Cat finally found her voice, her eyes still locked on Supergirl’s. In the darkness, she could easily make out the silhouette of her assistant underneath the cape.

“Ms. Grant.” Supergirl laughed slightly, similar but distinctly different from Kara. How could she be the same and yet such different people?

But suddenly, Supergirl wasn’t paying attention. Pushing off Cat, Supergirl didn’t stand but instead sat on the floor in a strangely almost casual position besides Cat. Supergirl tilted her head slightly.

“Yeah, I’m with her now. … Cat’s fine. Livewire was here… Not for long, no… No, I didn’t engage this time… I’m not sure where she went, Alex, but she left. I don’t know how long until she comes back.”

Cat propped herself up slightly, but still remained in the somewhat undignified position on the floor underneath her assistant’s desk.

“Well, if she’s not here then… I mean, the power is out in the entire city. She has to be somewhere, Alex. It’s not like she’s trying to be subtle.”

Cat strained to listen in. It was infuriating to only hear half the conversation, not even a mumble or a murmur from the earpiece to give a clue to whoever this Alex was: male, female, boyfriend, girlfriend, sidekick, secret government agency coworker?

“I don’t like it. … I’m not saying that. You know that. … You can’t, no… I want to help … Ok, I know, I know. I just don’t think it’s going to be easy…” Supergirl’s eyes darted back to Cat, seeming to appraise her. “Because you know why.” Whatever was being discussed, Cat could tell even in the shadows that her super assistant wasn’t winning.

“Fine. Ok. We’ll try it your way. And you…” There was a softening to her voice, a soft insistence and stubbornness that was below even Kara Danvers normal register. “Just… just be careful, ok Alex? I mean it.”

Just who exactly was this Alex?

Kara’s eyes transformed when she directed her attention back to Cat. “Livewire’s escaped,” she offered.

“So I’ve gathered. And I imagine that’s the leading theory behind this power outage?”

“One of them, anyway,” Supergirl stood up, her eyes darting around before she bent down to offer a hand to Cat. “You’re in danger, Ms. Grant. I need to get you out of here.”

“Unless all you’re offering is to fly me back to my condo again, I categorically refuse. I didn’t build my empire by running away.” Cat stared at the offered hand for a second too long to be polite just to make her point before finally accepting the help. In an abrupt motion, Cat was brought to her feet, taking an extra step to balance herself right into Supergirl. Supergirl seemingly instinctually wrapped Cat in her arms. With a nearly apologetic grimace in the grainy darkness, Supergirl’s arms fell back to her sides. Cat took one small step backwards.

Supergirl sighed. Suddenly it became very clear that this was what she and this Alex had been talking about. “I’m afraid you don’t have much of an option right now, Ms. Grant.” There was a firmness in her voice. “Livewire is intent on finding you and frankly, I’d rather she didn’t.”

There was something in the way that Supergirl said I’d rather that gave Cat momentarily pause. She raised her eyebrow challengingly, an effect she hoped wasn’t lost in the darkness. “You beat her once before, I don’t see why you can’t do a repeat performance.”

“While generally, yes, this is the case…” Supergirl looked around, seeming for a second like she wring her hands in a Kara-like manner before boldly looking at Cat head on. “When Livewire escaped, she absorbed a… pretty potent power source. As much as I hate to say this, even I can’t stop her as is. A strategy is being formed but until we know it’s a viable option, I need to get you as far away as possible,” there was a firmness in Supergirl’s voice, but also a tremor underneath. Something had gotten Supergirl scared and had run her ragged. It was then that Cat did the math. Kara had left sometime around two, it was now almost midnight. Was this what she had been doing for almost ten hours?

Still, Cat shook her head, speaking slowly and deliberately, “I don’t run.”

“Agents are already on their way to provide Carter and your ex-husband’s family a protection detail and to move them discreetly out of the city for as long as it takes. Some of the best agents I know are going to make sure you still have a son when all of this is over. Let me do my job so that your son still has a mother.”

Cat glowered. It was a cheap shot.

* * *

The lies Cat told herself that not even she believed:

1\. “I’m fine. Happy, even.”

2\. She could finally drown out her Mother’s words and judgements.

3\. She had made peace with her decision about Adam.

4\. She wasn’t scared senseless that she’d make similar mistakes with Carter and lose him too.

5\. She didn’t have feelings for Kara.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Between my math skills and the slightly shifting timeline given by the show, Kara seems to have landed on Earth around 2003/2004. Researching/remembering pop culture from that time made me feel so old.
> 
> The title is taken from Elizabeth Bishop's poem "One Art."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to Dreiser for all her help and feedback.
> 
> Thank you for everyone's patience in the delay in sharing this chapter. Life, it's a crazy unpredictable thing, you know?

Kara interlocked her fingers, her brow furrowed in earnest concentration.

“It’s like this. Maybe.” Even as she spoke, Kara seemed not quite satisfied at her own explanation and accompanying demonstration.

“It’s like holding hands with yourself?” Alex’s eyebrow arched up, dubiously amused but open to whatever her sister was trying to explain. Underneath Kara’s shifting expressions, Alex could almost trace the edges of her sister’s thoughts, the visual working of her mind silently proposing and then denying countless thoughts and examples.

Kara playfully shoved Alex with her shoulder.

The smell of the cooking turkey wafted out of the windows trying to lure the sisters back inside. Sitting together on the roof felt like the most natural thing in the world, like this wasn’t Alex’s first visit home since she had thrown herself completely into her new bioengineering job and those new exercise self defense classes that left massive bruises all over her body. Even so, it wasn’t exactly as before. There was a quiet appreciation, a soft new edge of having missed these moments. The closeness between the sisters was still there, in fact since Alex started her new job Kara felt that the strange distance that had been growing between them was healing. But now the roof seemed more like something belonging to their childhood.

“No. Ok. So like… Everyone has connectors and receivers, right? So maybe more like this.” Kara shifted her hands so her fingertips were perfectly lined up and pressing against each other. “Not all of them line up, of course. I mean, no one is perfectly matched or aligned with anyone. Not even twins probably.” The shift in Kara’s frown, while subtle, lingered as her thoughts strayed to her mother and Astra. As an only child, it had confused Kara how her mother and aunt could look identical and yet be so different. Like mirror images, they had been at complete odds at the end. Now Kara felt like she was beginning to understand what it meant to have a sister. Even if they weren’t twins or from the same planet, it was because of Alex that Kara was able to grasp the depths of understanding and tensions and the inherent competition found within sibling relationships.

Kara shifted her index fingers so they rested side by side against each other. Considering her own hands carefully, Kara then retracted her left ring finger to further illustrate the differences, the disconnects. “And that’s not a bad thing, because that’s how we learn. Growth comes from acknowledging our differences and recognizing value in them. That’s what makes everyone individual.” As she spoke, Kara tried not to think about the final weeks of Krypton. With the innocence of a child, on some level she had believed the impending destruction would bring her people closer together beyond hugging and crying in the streets. She still imagines they had said thank you and I love you more. But she also witnessed how the final weeks tore relationships apart far before the ground beneath them began to visibly crack.

“That's what makes you human.” Kara shrugged, her fingers breaking apart and returning to her lap.

“That’s what makes us alive, Kara,” Alex corrected softly. Her heart stopped whenever Kara said anything like ‘make you human.’ It was a turn of phrase that Kara had picked up early but rarely said, especially after she seemed to become more settled.

“When you think about it, relationships, they are like fabric in a way. Woven together, all these connectors and receivers… some misalignment is bound to happen.” Kara scrunched her face, still clearly circling her point but struggling.

“Kara,” Alex softened her tone, switching to Kryptonian, “I am not sure I’m following.”

It was as if Alex hadn’t spoken. Kara barreled on ahead in English. “Some misalignments are trivial. Like preferring pepperoni pizza to cheese, bound to happen. I mean, even if someone doesn’t like pizza at all, it’s hardly grounds for not being someone’s friend. That’d be ridiculous.” Kara laughed nervously before suddenly becoming serious. “But others… others are bigger. And even if your connectors and receivers are properly aligned or….” Kara adjusted her glasses and looked away, her voice becoming softer. “What if my receivers aren’t set up right, Alex?”

“Kara…”

“What if I’m so different that I’ll always be on the edge? I’m not like them, Alex. Or even you…” When Kara saw the protest forming, the argument building velocity across her sister’s face, she held up her hand. “No. I’m serious. As much as I’ve learned and even fit in now, I’m still me. An alien.” Kara gestured at herself as if to demonstrate. Her ability to look perfectly human on skin level both helping and hurting her current argument. “Someone not of this world. And maybe that means I’ll always be alone in some way. Even with Kal-El… it’s not the same. You know it’s not. I can’t seem to have the same connection with him that I had with my family, not like I do with you even. It’s just not there. Just like it isn’t there with everyone else.” In a softer, more childlike voice, she added, “Maybe when I landed on this planet, that’s what really broke on impact. My ability to ever truly connect with people, to feel as if I belong.”

Alex had enwrapped Kara in her arms, trying to pull the depth of her affection for her sister into her voice. “You’re not broken. You’re my sister.”

“But what about other people, Alex? Besides you. I can’t even connect with my cousin properly.”

“Kara, you’re warm and sweet and caring, even if you are a huge dork who is re-reading the _Encyclopedia Britannica_ now that it’s on CD-ROM.” Alex kissed the top of her sister’s head and stared out into the sky. After a long silence, Alex continued, in a quieter tone, so gentle as to not disturb any growing hopes in her foster sister. “You have a family here and friends, Kara, who care about you very much. And who knows, even someday… Your cousin has Lois Lane. Your Lois, or Louis, or whoever, is out there somewhere. And when you meet that person we’ll make sure all connectors and receivers are where they need to be and in working order. Clark told Lois the truth, someday you can too.”

Enveloped in Alex’s arms, Kara nodded mostly only to humor Alex. “I know…”

Alex pulled Kara closer. As she pushed back against the emotions rising within her, Kara slipped her glasses off her face, fearful the embrace would somehow crush the lead frames. Jeremiah never did come back and make the larger pair of glasses she had wanted to ask for. Crafting a new pair herself seemed taboo, as if doing so would forsake the kind man who accepted her as part of his family, the man who helped teach her English and who had introduced her to potstickers. The man who had shown her that Earth could one day maybe even be home.

“So what’s this about?” Alex broke the silence.

Kara shrugged listlessly like the teenager she was growing out of being, like the teenager she barely ever was.

“Mom said you were hanging out with kids from high school…” Alex prompted.

“They’re not, we’re not kids,” Kara protested.

“So, how was it?”

Kara exhaled. “He kissed me, Alex.”

“Zachary did?”

Kara pulled out of the embrace, searching Alex’s face. “How’d you know?”

“I’m becoming somewhat of an expert in analyzing speech patterns and body language,” Alex stuck out her tongue playfully before her expression shifted seriously. “I have eyes, Kara. He’s had a crush on you forever.”

“It was so awful, Alex,” Kara groaned. “I didn’t know and… he came on so fast I don’t know how I didn’t break his nose.” Kara shuddered. It seemed so distant now, how suddenly no one else was around and how Zachary had gone quiet before lunging for her face. Kara didn’t know what was happening until his face more or less collided with hers. And even when he pulled away just as Kara, unsure how to move into a kiss, was starting to soften, he had rubbed at his nose and looked at her affectionately. Hopeful, like it would all be an adorable story someday. His heart beat quickly and for the first time Kara knew why.

She could practically hear him buzzing with excitement and Kara, she just felt silent inside. When he moved in for a second kiss, Kara pulled away and apologized profusely, rambling on about something, about anything she could think of, about Eliza’s pie and how she was just so, so sorry.

“And after?”

“After?” Kara seemed confused.

“What happened after he kissed you?”

“I left.” And then, as if confessing, “It took everything I had to walk at a human speed.”

“So, all and all, better than my first kiss but still pretty horrible.”

“Alex, yours wasn’t so bad.” Kara protested.

“Kara, I punched him and got detention.” Alex shot Kara side eye.

“Yeah, you’re right…” Kara laughed, though no one found it very funny at the time. Jeremiah might have but Eliza certainly didn’t.

“The Danvers sisters, we’re definitely something else,” Alex chuckled. "We should come with a warning."

* * *

It took two tries with the pass code and then the door was shaky in its hinges. The small porch did little in the way of protection against the weather. Kara ushered Cat inside before shutting the door against the downpour. Once inside, the rain drops continued to run down her forehead and push past her eyelashes, blinding and blurring her vision. The small dark room was obscured beyond even the help of her X-Ray vision before she wiped it away with a bone wary wave of her hand.

Kara had only been to this safe house once before as part of Hank’s routine emergency procedure drills. He had all these contingencies in place that were constantly being reformatted and adjusted in light of new aliens and threats being detected. It had seemed almost silly at the time but now Kara was thankful for an off-the-grid cabin nestled deep within British Columbia.

The time before had been bright and sunny. Kara hadn’t gone inside the cabin before zipping back to National City, satisfied that she would be able to find it again. Doubtful she would have to. Even then it had seemed rustic, flimsy. Kara preferred the safe houses tucked away in sunnier locations.

The second trip back hadn’t been as effortless, taking altogether longer than expected. She flew slower in an attempt to keep Cat comfortable, and then slower still when the heavy rain became nearly blinding. Between the downpour and Cat burrowing deeper and deeper into her neck for warmth, Kara had almost missed the small cabin at the edge of the lake entirely.

Guided by her X-Ray vision, the floorboards creaked under foot as Kara turned on the lights. The light, flickering overhead, cast the room in an unsteady and unforgiving brightness revealing an empty but clean fireplace, furniture in various states of decay, and the hallway leading to the rest of the cabin. Even Kara, in all her optimism, could admit that the cabin was lackluster.

Kara turned to face Cat, strangely aware and self-conscious of how her cape was steadily contributing to the growing puddles on the floor. Cat lingered by the door, dripping and shivering, arms crossed against the wet, cold autumn weather that had followed them inside. She looked as if she was having an out of body experience, her well-tailored outfit clinging in ways the designer probably never intended. Both woman regarded each other in a confused wonder, silently searching for a decent explanation on how they found themselves here, together, like this.

Realizing she had been staring for far too long, Kara broke the silence. “I’ll get you a towel.” When the reply that she was expecting never came, Kara added, “And I’ll see if there is a change of clothes.”

Turning on lights as she went, Kara took her time on a task that could have easily taken ten seconds. She headed straight for the bathroom and stepped into the bathtub to wring the last of the rain out of her cape, her hair, and even her skirt. She barely noticed the mismatched tiles as a growing feeling of dread rose up within her.

She didn’t need to head into the kitchen at the end of the hall. She could clearly see the various dry goods and food designed to last: bags of rice, an assortment of tins and cans, instant coffee. With a slow and cautious step, Kara stepped out of the tub and ventured into the small bedroom across the hall and stared at the full sized bed. She turned around, searching for another door, the other room that had initially escaped her attention. She swept the entire footprint of the cabin with her X-Ray vision. It was easy to locate what appeared to be a backup generator and a more portable, battery powered version of the DEO’s sunlamps stored next to it.

What she didn’t find was the second bedroom or a fold out cot of any kind.

Kara pressed her forehead against the bedroom wall, inhaling and exhaling slowly. The situation seemed to be unraveling away from her and for the first time that day she allowed herself to truly feel the exhaustion coating her muscles and bones. Unsure of how to proceed next, Kara only pushed off when she heard Cat starting to move about.

Returning to the living room clutching a dry towel for Cat, Kara was greeted by the strange sight of Cat crouching in front of the fireplace with a familiar look of concentration. Cat appeared to be trying to light the kindling and wadded up paper that now filled the fireplace, the match shaking slightly as Cat continued to shiver from the cold.

From the safety of the doorway, Kara watched Cat try with the matches twice, the flames not quite catching, the smoke only rising fleetingly from the damp paper. Placing the towel on the recliner and stepping around the coffee table, Kara lowered herself to the floor and placed her hand softly on Cat’s wrist.

“Here, let me.” Kara nearly whispered before directing her sole focus on the pile of wood, the familiar heat rising up through her eyes. She would never quite know what humans meant when they said their eyes burned before rubbing them, she would only know this sensation. Within seconds, the kindling had caught.

As her vision came back into better focus, Kara sensed Cat’s hand approaching in her peripheral vision. Jerking away, Kara caught Cat’s wrist. Instantly, her grip softened, loosening until she barely held on without letting go entirely. Cat’s hand remained suspended in the air only a few inches away from Kara’s face.

“Careful,” Kara warned. Without realizing why or even entirely that she was doing it, Kara rubbed her thumb against the soft, cool skin on the underside of Cat’s wrist. “You’ll burn yourself.”

Cat pulled her hand back in a slow, unsteady motion. “Does it hurt you to do that?”

“No. But it’d hurt you.”

Cat lifted an eyebrow, as if not quite believing. The fire crackled in the background.

“My sister, she touched my face right after once.” Kara shouldn’t have used her powers that day and she still felt a small knot of guilt when she thought about it. How many of her early lessons had been learned at Alex’s expense? How many scars, broken bones, and bruises had she caused her sister over the years? “She got second degree burns on her fingers. We had to say it was a cooking accident.” Kara smiled shyly, self consciously, suddenly overly aware of just how close they were, their faces not even a foot apart. “My sister never cooks.”

“Well that’s…” For once, Cat seemed like she was searching for words before finally settling on the slightly disappointing: “Good to know.”

“There’s a towel if you want.” Kara gestured at the recliner behind her before standing up and walking back to the door. She could hear the start of a protest forming, the shock that Kara might somehow leave her here alone. The fear that Supergirl would simply drop Cat off in the middle of nowhere and jet off.

Without any explanation, Kara toed off her red boots. The gesture combined with her clear enjoyment at being barefoot made her appear strangely human and yet entirely not. When Kara turned back around, Cat was running the towel through her wet hair, staring. Trying to seem like she was calm and had everything under control, Kara folded herself up on the couch, carefully arranging her cape so it draped over the back so as to not dampen the cushions further.

“So you do sit on couches,” Cat remarked, dropping the towel on the coffee table before laying claim to the recliner. Her focus dropped to Kara’s toes with a hint of amusement. “And your preference for red toe nail polish is, to what, match your cape?”

Kara curled her toes, digging them into the uneven padding of the old couch. Despite having painted them the night before while watching Netflix with Alex, they were already chipping. It wasn’t her best effort and it had needed a top coat, but Kara doubted that any nail polish could withstand her current lifestyle.

“So what’s it like, your laser vision?” Cat mimed the effect with her hand.

“Technically, it’s less of a laser and more to do with solar energy.” Kara crossed her arms in what even she knew was a silly attempt at a power stance considering she probably looked like a drown rat. “Kal calls it heat vision.”

“Well then, what does your heat vision feel like?” Cat pressed in an almost deceptively nonchalant tone.

“Ms. Grant,” Kara smiled nervously, tipping her head slightly to the side. “This isn’t an interview.”

“No one said it was,” Cat retorted. “You’re the one who dragged me to the centerfold of _Log Home Living_. One must do something to pass the time. In civilized society, we often do this through conversation.”

“There’s Scrabble in that cabinet there. And a few other games.” Kara nodded with her chin towards a built in cabinet.

“Take all the boys here do you?” Cat teased as she remarked on the closed cabinet. Registering Kara’s growing discomfort, she added, “All the girls then?”

“Just you,” Kara replied, far more seriously than she intended.

For a second they nearly stared at each other.

“So just to reiterate,” Cat cleared her throat, “you have flown me to god knows where, ordered a protection detail for my son and my louse of an ex-husband, all in an effort to escape my disgruntled ex-employee. And your brilliant idea of what to do next is to, what, play Scrabble?”

“You’re shivering, Ms. Grant,” Kara observed, deciding to avoid the question entirely. “There should be hot water if you want to take a shower and there are dry clothes in the closet in the bedroom if you want to change into something else while your outfit dries.”

“Which bedroom?” Cat craned her neck around to the hallway.

“There’s only one.” Kara tried to keep her voice steady. “It’s the door on the right, across from the bathroom.”

“Oh.” It was a strange sound that escaped Cat’s throat.

To hide the blush rising to her face, Kara kept her eyes averted to the rain against the window. “I’ll take the couch.”

“Oh.” Cat's words trailed off, softer and almost contemplative. “I think I’ll take that shower.” She abruptly stood up and kept her gaze far from Kara as she exited the room.

Kara flashed a forced, shallow smile that Cat never saw.

Once Cat was gone, Kara switched her attention back to the never ending static on the comms. They had gone out ten minutes into the flight. One minute Alex was giving her an update and the next minute nothing. Alex had warned her that this might happen if Livewire took the bait that Cat was hiding out at the DEO for refuge. Once lured, they would seal the base, except unlike the normal safety protocol, they would have to take additional steps to seal the compound off entirely from the grid. There, trapped within the internal DEO power system, they might have a better chance of containing and neutralizing Livewire.

While she knew it was useless, Kara pried her phone from its hiding place within her costume and started to send Alex a flurry of text messages. Kara tipped her head back and groaned in frustration. Cellphone dead zones were near perfect in safe house theory but frustrating in actual emergencies. Kara twisted her position and floated off the couch slightly until she got enough bars for her text messages to slowly send out. Her phone pinged once, twice with CatCo emails before losing the signal again.

It was then that it hit her, that sinking feeling of uselessness. Here she was, hundreds of miles away from National City, in the Canadian wilderness of all places, unable to do anything. She couldn’t fly back to help. That would mean leaving Cat alone to fend for herself in the middle of nowhere. Even if she could assure Cat’s safety, she’d only risk breaking the DEO’s seal and allow Livewire to escape once again.

By the time Cat got out of the shower, Kara had stowed her phone underneath the couch cushions. Cat seemed like someone else entirely, dressed in clothes that dwarfed her small frame and was clearly grumpy about it. Her oversized men’s sweater slid slightly to the side, exposing her collarbone in a way that made Kara’s breath hitch. It was with a strange sense of surprise when Kara realized that this was the first time she was seeing her employer without makeup. The difference, most clearly visible around Cat’s eyes, somehow gave a new, intimate aspect to the strange evening. Seeming not to notice the affect she having on Kara, Cat reclaimed the recliner with an exhausted exhale.

“So how is this going to work?” Cat inquired as she picked at the pilling sweater. “We’re here playing board games until, what, that device in your ear turns back on and tells us it’s safe to go back?”

“That’s the general gist of it.” Kara tried to sound confident. It would get them nowhere if she was as equally grumpy about the situation.

“I’m going to be honest with you, Supergirl, I don’t care for camping. I don’t understand the allure of bug spray and clothes that smell like wood smoke for weeks on end. In my experience, camping trips always end in sun burns and severe disappointment. This,” Cat twirled her finger in the air, “little house on the prairie knockoff is a baby’s step away from camping.” Her eyes narrowed. “Your secret government agency couldn’t even get us to a safe house with two bedrooms or a television. Am I to assume that my son is experiencing similar five star treatment?”

“Your son is safe and well taken care of. Livewire’s abilities don’t really leave room for more modern accommodations,” Kara offered evenly.

“And you can protect my life from the couch?”

Kara spoke as if solemnly and proudly swearing an oath. “I can and I will.”

“You really haven’t thought this through, have you?” There was both kindness and judgement in Cat’s voice.

Kara opened her mouth and then frowned. “We’re doing the best we can to keep you safe, Ms. Grant.”

“No doubt.” There was a softness, nearly a wistful quality to Cat’s voice as her eyes swept across Kara. The fire crackled through the silence. There seemed to be a hesitation in the normally so confident and sure woman, a fissure that was quickly filled. “Well, today has been remarkably unexpected. I’m going to go to bed now. Please make sure that I’m not killed before morning. And I dear god hope that there is coffee in this god forsaken place.” Cat stood up and padded down the hallway. She lingered at the bedroom door for just a second, her fingers sliding down the doorframe, before disappearing inside and softly shutting the door behind her. 

* * *

 Lying limp on the bathroom floor, Kara’s Supergirl costume seemed a strange, insignificant thing. Yet without it, standing in the bathroom in just her underwear with Cat sleeping across the hall, Kara felt like a lost little girl in well beyond her depth. She held her arms across her chest more for comfort than warmth and prodded the large swatches of red and blue with her big toe.

Knowing she would be stuck in the suit for as long as they stayed, it was still several minutes longer before she scooped it up and brought it to the sink. Enjoying the sensation of the running water, Kara scrubbed off the dirt and the residue of the day’s violence the best she could. After a few quick shakes and careful use of her heat vision, Kara hung the dry and relatively cleaner suit up on the hook besides Cat’s used towel.

Then she shed her underwear and stepped into the shower. Almost mechanically, she washed the day off her skin: the crowded streets of National City, the bustling hallways of Catco, each and every impact from Livewire. The fear for Alex’s safety and whatever she was feeling around Cat clung stubbornly to her skin. The water did little to calm the surreal nature of her current situation or how the exhaustion seemed to buzz within her.

As the water verged on ice cold, Cat’s words continued to reverberate in her head. She hadn’t thought this through. There hadn’t been time to and now Kara was struck by the hours—what would they do between now and whenever Alex’s plan hopefully worked? Scrabble would only get them so far.

How long until Cat figured out the truth—not just that Kara was Supergirl but that Kara had feelings for her?

She hadn’t been this exhausted in a long time and it was more of an arduous task than she expected to pull her suit back on after she had finally stepped out of the shower. Kara allowed herself to feel that smallness, those whispers of doubt for a moment or two longer in the safety of bathroom. As she made her way back to the couch, she could hear Cat’s clear and familiar heartbeat.

* * *

Kara groaned as she woke to the welcome smell of instant coffee and the sound of the rain steady and rhythmic against the roof. She grasped at her cape, which had been serving as a poor, makeshift substitute for a blanket. The lumpy couch had left her body stiff and sore in unexpected ways. Suddenly awake enough to remember what was going on, her eyes snapped open and she instantly sat up, her back ramrod straight.

Cat was leaning towards her, blowing over a cup of coffee, and examining Kara closely. Curiously.

“Good, you’re awake.” Cat leaned back, satisfied. “Has anyone told you that you sleep like the dead?”

“No, actually…” Kara’s brow furrowed, sleep still heavily lining her voice.

“I’ve been up for an hour dropping things on purpose and making a general racket. So either you’ve been keeping your eyes closed out of some weird alien form of politeness or I need to be more worried about my general well being and safety.” Her look of victory was somewhat compromised when she grimaced at the taste of her instant coffee. 

Kara forced a smile, fighting the urge to rub her eyes. “I can filter out noises. I knew it was you.”

“Did you now?”

Kara stood up and stretched, feeling increasingly self conscious from Cat’s continual watchful gaze. It felt like Cat’s eyes had barely left her since they arrived last night. Without another word, she beelined to the kitchen. The coffee machine was still on, an empty mug and a box of sugar just slightly off to the side. Kara tugged at the box and poured a healthy amount of sugar into the bottom of her mug before drowning it in coffee.

“There’s no milk, unless you want the condensed kind.” Cat leaned up against the doorframe.

“Just sugar’s fine.” Kara smiled, cupping the steaming mug in her hand. The oddity of the situation made her more aware than usual of the warmth emanating from the coffee, making it all the more welcome and comforting.

“Aliens, they sleep on couches and take sugar in their coffee. I can smell my Pulitzer already.” Cat shook her head before returning back to the living room with a flourish of her hand. “Eat your heart out Lois Lane. I have the world’s most mundane exclusive.”

Kara rolled her eyes. Bringing the coffee to her lips, for a moment she appreciated how quiet this corner of the world was. This small smile lasted up until she finally tried to sip her coffee and nearly spit it out from shock. It was hot. Too hot. Far hotter than anything she had experienced in decades.

Even before the caffeine hit her system, Kara knew. Her hands now shaking, she set her coffee down, nearly dropping it in the process. Coffee splashed across the counter and Kara cursed under her breath.

“Everything all right in there?” Cat’s voice called from the other room.

“Yeah, I just… spilled some coffee,” Kara tried not to stutter. Cat could smell fear and weakness. Right now, Kara was firmly entrenched in both.

Catapulted into action, Kara found a dish towel and began mopping up the scalding, dark puddle that was dripping down the counter. The roof of her mouth still nagged her, a strange and unwanted echo of a familiar pain she hadn’t felt in decades. Not since Krypton.

She closed her eyes and whispered a prayer under her breath.

Pouring herself more coffee, Kara returned to the living room with as serene an expression as she could muster. Cat was already setting up the Scrabble board. As Cat gathered the loose tiles from where they had scattered in the box, all the while muttering something about civilized manners, Kara tried and failed to see through the cabinet door.

It was eerily quiet to be standing in a room and to not hear Cat’s heartbeat.

“Does everyone on your planet stare so intently all the time?”

Kara tried to keep her voice casual and even. “Do you know how long it’s going to be raining?”

“Should I expect such thrilling conversational topics this entire time?”

Kara placed her palm against the cold glass of the window, for once really feeling the cold like Alex would or Cat. It was a strange and disorienting sensation. Looking over her shoulder, she shot Cat a shy smile. “The sun is important to my people, Ms. Grant.”

Cat held out the Scrabble bag, giving it a little shake, as if storing the information away for later use. “It’ll come back. It always does.”

Kara returned to the couch and pressed her full weight against it, for once not trying to modify her strength. It didn’t budge. Not an inch. She remembered the portable sun lamp with a twinge of longing. Kara had no idea how strong its battery was. Would it be enough for her to recharge? Livewire became a distant threat. If she couldn’t fly, how long were they stuck here?

“Have you eaten? I’m going to go make breakfast.” Kara announced before turning on her heel and retreating back into the kitchen.

It wasn’t much safer in the kitchen. With a determined energy, she swept through every cabinet and cupboard and laid out every food item she could find. It was all instant this and just add water thats, every box trying to entice her with the deceptively simple directions and pictures that over promised the flavor within.

Kara was inspecting a box of powdered eggs when Cat reappeared with an appraising expression.

“Not much of a cook, are you?”

“I do okay.” Kara shrugged. “It’s like episode of Chopped in this kitchen.”

“You watch the Food Network?” Cat perked an eyebrow in interest.

“Earth 101 did extend beyond basic cable, Ms. Grant. And my continuing education about Earth even includes a Netflix subscription.”

Cat sashayed fully into the kitchen to examine the boxes and bags displayed sporadically on the counter. She picked a few up for closer inspection, others she only nodded at like old friends, but most only garnered looks of displeasure. After a minute, she lightly hip checked Kara.

“Now out of my kitchen. You’ll probably burn the only half decent items here with those eyes of yours,” Cat instructed.

Kara opened her mouth to protest and stopped. Finally, she added a warning, “I need to eat _a lot_ , Ms. Grant.”

Cat’s eyes raked up and down Kara’s body. “The injustice, it never ends.”

Kara, pretending not to be flustered, hoisted herself up on the counter. Her legs swung haphazardly as she watched Cat start to dissemble certain containers in an attempt to construct something edible from what the DEO had deemed adequate to stock the safe house with.

“Were you raised in a barn?”

“Different planet actually.”

“You barely sit on couches, but counters suit you fine?” Cat tsked as she returned her attention to cooking.

“What can I say, I’m an alien, Ms. Grant.” Kara shrugged playfully, before shaking her head at the rice Cat was carefully measuring out. “You’re going to need a lot more than that.” Rolling her eyes, Cat poured a second cup and challengingly added it to the pot. Kara merely shook her head, and with a huff Cat added a third cup.

“A little more than that.”

Cat shot Kara an incredulous look but added the additional cup of rice.

“That’s better.”

* * *

For what it was, breakfast wasn’t bad. There wasn’t enough of it, but there rarely was when a human was cooking. Kara took it as a good sign that she hadn’t lost her appetite. She remained in the kitchen after, finding temporary refuge in washing dirty dishes and being the polite human Eliza taught her to be.

When every last dish had been washed, dried and put away, Kara found Cat curled up in the recliner reading one of the trashy paperbacks that had been left in the cabin. It was a sight Kara never thought she’d see, Cat reading _Destiny’s Captive,_ her face not entirely dominated by her patent scowl.

“That took you a while,” Cat observed placing her book to the side. “Afraid your super speed would break the fine china?”

Kara shot a look over her shoulder before walking over to the bookshelf. Whoever stocked the reading materials in this safe house had a strange definition of literature. Finally, wedged between _Betting on the Wrong Brother_ and _Bride from the Wildflowers_ , Kara plucked out a well worn copy of _The Odyssey_ and headed back to the couch. She carefully opened the book, aware that the binding was already broken beyond repair and that entire sections seemed moments away from falling out completely. The Scrabble board, already set up and ready to go, lay ignored between them.

“Trying to impress someone, are we?” Cat arched her eyebrow.

“It has universal appeal.” Kara shrugged, struggling to hold the book together as it seemed to almost willfully try to fall apart in her hands. “Literally in this case.”

It was all of five minutes before the first section fell to the floor. Without looking up from her own book, Cat shook the bag of Scrabble tiles. Admitting defeat, Kara placed down what remained of _The Odyssey_ and pulled out seven tiles at random. She had more E’s than she knew what to do with in the English language and frowned slightly.

“We should play poker next,” Cat remarked as she fished out her own tiles.

Kara rolled her eyes.

There were barely a handful of words on the board when Cat shifted her focus back to Kara.

“How old were you when you came to Earth?”

“Is this an interview?” Kara didn’t look up, her fingers shuttling between tiles as she built prospective words in her mind.

“We humans call this conversation. It’s antiquated but still favored in most circles.”

Kara began placing her selected tiles on the board. When she looked up, she tried to keep her tone casual. “I was young, a child.”

“Very specific.”

“Any more specific and you’ll be combing through school, foster, and adoption records, so for now, we’ll stick with young.” Kara nodded to Cat’s tiles with her chin. “You’re up.”

Cat smiled smugly before laying her word besides Kara’s, easily snaring 40 points. “How much do you remember about your home planet?”

“Everything,” Kara replied quickly. But her look of stubborn resolve quickly melted behind several other expressions. After her initial hesitation, she conceded, “Not as much as I’d like. I tend to remember all the wrong things.”

“There’s that look again,” Cat said, almost as if to herself.

“What look? I don’t have a look,” Kara protested quickly.

“Of course you don’t,” Cat patronized. “Your turn.”

Kara pouted, regarding Cat for a moment longer before returning her attention to the tiles.

“So what’s it like, growing up on a world where everyone can fly and shoot laser beams from their eyes?”

“I wouldn’t know.” Kara glanced up momentarily, her finger still moving back and forth over the tiles.

“Where did you grow up, if not on your own planet?” There was a gleam in Cat’s voice, the kind that slowly started to rise when she felt she had her subject trapped or when she sensed that string, that thread of a story beckoning, begging to be unraveled.

“Krypton and Earth are drastically different planets, Ms. Grant. Different gravity levels, different atmosphere, different suns…” Kara began laying her tiles out across the board. A respectably small 34 points. “Different everything really. It’s those differences that allow my cousin and I to have our powers here on Earth.” Kara bit her tongue. There was dangerous conversational topics and then there was revealing far too much. “It wasn’t part of our culture growing up, infants who could shoot lasers from their eyes when throwing a tantrum or teenagers who could sneak out the house by flying. We gained them here.”

“Snuck out a lot, did you, from your foster parents?” Coyly, Cat demurred, pretending to return her attention to the game. Kara, however, knew better.

“Never.”

“Of course. Goody two shoes.” From Cat’s mouth, it sounded less like a judgement before her tone softened entirely. “There’s that look again.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Ms. Grant.” Kara laughed and pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. “Your turn.”

“You said you remembered the wrong things about your planet. What would the right things be?”

“Where are you going with this?” Kara’s tone strengthened, her resolve hardening.

Cat leaned back. For a moment, both woman stared at each other, assessing and breaking the other down to find the right pieces to build a strategy around. Then Cat began inspecting her nails. “I remember the nurse’s name, after Adam was born. Marjorie. She was from Indiana or Oklahoma or some equally absurd yet dull midwestern state. A horridly boring woman, always speaking too much and all the while silently judging me for having a child out of wedlock. I can only imagine what she’d say at all the subsequent chapters… I don’t remember much from those first few days, how many times I held him or…” Cat tsked at herself. “You would think I would, that I’d have it all engraved into my memory. If I had a choice... but it doesn't work like that.”

Kara knew what Cat was doing, she knew the motives behind this offered trade and Kara was ashamed to admit that it was working.

“I remember how hot it was. In the end, everything was burning… every earthquake or forest fire here on Earth, it brings me back to those final weeks. I remember the smell of my planet exploding more than I do the smell of my mother’s hair.” Kara held Cat’s gaze steady, firming her jaw. Kara realized there was an edge to her voice, and at the moment she didn’t care. “Sometimes when I close my eyes, I can still see the flashes of the final explosion reflecting in my pod…”

Cat opened her mouth and then closed it slowly. Her voice, when she found it, was soft, tentative.“You… saw it?”

Kara’s face hardened as she averted her eyes to the windows. The rain fell against the glass with a muted insistence, a poor distraction. “How long do you think it will keep raining?”

“You need a PR person. Your redirection lacks finesse.”

“Whose turn is it?” Kara’s voice was hoarse, not caring.

“Yours.”

The silence filled the room, slowly burrowing underneath Kara’s skin. It was a long time before either of them spoke.

Cat won the first game to a barely observed victory. She merely swept up the tiles back into the bag and wordlessly help the bag again out to restart. However, Kara having recovered her focus somewhat, the second game had quickly evolved beyond its lackadaisical structure to one of heated competition.

Kara subtly tried to rub at a knot in the back of her neck, every once in a while trying to adjust her neck in a gesture she had seen both Eliza and Alex do on several occasions. As much as Kara tried to ignore it, she was overly aware of Cat’s watchful eye. Finally after Kara’s particularly inspired application of kiwis over a triple word score for over 60 points, Cat broke the heated silence with an overly casual tone.

“Is Alex your boyfriend?”

Kara laughed self consciously. “She’s definitely not my boyfriend.”

“Girlfriend, then,” Cat chimed, undeterred.

“No, no, nothing like that,” Kara smiled in between laughs.

“Something against girlfriends?”

Kara face arranged itself in a strange, not quite readable composition. “No. Not at all. Of course not. She’s just not my girlfriend. Our relationship isn’t like that.”

“Oh,” Cat remarked before playing her word quickly, grinning strangely victorious at her meager 23 point word score.

Kara directed her attention back to her letters, hoping but knowing that Cat wasn’t about to drop it.

“Is it Alex Danvers?”

Kara froze, her fingers suspended over the tile she was going to pick up. Ever so slowly, her eyes rose to meet Cat’s.

“Your sister, Alex Danvers.” Cat clarified smugly behind a nonchalant veneer.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Kara replied, slowly, evenly, only a thin layer of calm masking the turbulence underneath.

“Really, Kara, it’s not that hard to figure out. You think I don’t notice that my assistant disappears every time there’s a disaster in National City? Or that Supergirl wears the same discontinued perfume as my assistant, one that barely made it to the retail shelves? You’ve reached up to adjust the glasses you’re not wearing three times now and you share the same exact expression when you’re focusing intently on something. We already established I can’t tell anyone but in the very least you can stop insisting on wearing your costume and put on a fresh change of clothes before you start to smell.”

“I… Ms. Grant… This is ridiculous. We’ve been through this.” Kara protested and then with a pout, added, “And I don’t smell.”

“Yet another Kryptonian gift?”

“No, I mean… I washed. This is ridiculous. You can’t really think that. I mean, you saw us together, Ms. Grant. It’s physically impossible for us to be the same person.”

“And yet here we are.” Cat gestured at the space between them calmly, almost victoriously. “If you’re not Kara Danvers, prove it.”

“How?”

“Tell me who you really are.”

“You’re trying to get me to reveal myself by circling back and forcing a previously failed assumption. This… entire conversation is ridiculous,” Kara fought back, trying to hold back her Kara-like sputtered protests and only partially succeeding. She waved at the game board in an attempt to return to safer territory. “Can we please go back to the game now?”

“I think we need to finish the real game before we can really return to Scrabble, don’t you? This whole me pretending to be fooled by your charade. I admit it was vaguely amusing for a while but it would be much simpler if you could at least acknowledge that I’m right.”

“You’re looking for the wrong answers, Ms. Grant.” Kara’s face became a strange mixture of granite and steel.

“So tell me the right ones.” When Kara didn’t respond, Cat pressed. “Tell me who are you.”

Kara tried to focus on the letters in front of her. She couldn’t remember if it was her turn or not as she placed each tile down, one by one, in time with her words. “I’m a refugee, Ms. Grant. An orphan and an immigrant.”She looked up from her 45 word score, her eyes seeming more alien to Cat than ever before. “Why are you so insistent on searching for a name that will only put you and everyone else I care about in danger?”

“Everyone else you care about?” Cat’s eyes flickered to across Kara’s face, searching, hoping, but not quite finding.

“You can’t be so conceited as to think you’re the only human I care for.”

“You care.” A smile tugged at the corners of Cat’s lips.

“Don’t ask questions you know the answer to.”

“It wasn’t a question,” Cat picked up a tile and began playing with it between her fingers.

Kara bit her lip, realizing only too late what she insinuated. Ten thousand thoughts ran through her mind and across her face. She closed her eyes and exhaled slowly, finally reaching her decision. She sat up straighter, pushing her shoulders back, her eyes slowly opening to meet Cat Grant.

“You already know everything you need to know, everything that is important. I am among a handful of survivors that escaped the destruction of my planet. And I could be your friend, too, Ms. Grant, if you would only let me.”

Kara stood up from the couch, jostling the coffee table between them ever so slightly, and walked out the door.

“Does the noble House of El not believe in names for the women? Your cousin, Kal-El, he has a name.” Cat called out as Kara shut the door behind her.

It was barely raining, verging more on misting. Staying out of the weather’s reach, Kat sat with a thud on the porch’s top step and leaned against the banister. She tapped her finger impatiently against the steps, unconsciously tapping out the rhythm of Cat’s heartbeat, a sound she hadn’t heard for hours. A sound she missed more than she would openly admit.

What was she going to do? How long until the comms came back on, how long until the sun burned away the clouds and her powers returned, how long until Cat had relentlessly pried each and every secret out of her?

Without her powers, Kara knew that she should feel more human, that she could finally understand that this is how they moved through the world. This is how they felt the cold on rainy autumn days, this is how heavy a cup of coffee really was. She knew she should pay attention to the intricacies to learn how to better play the part. Understanding the subtleties would only help her in the secret identity department.

However, without her powers, she only felt more Kryptonian. She felt like she had on the streets of Argo City and in her first bedroom growing up. It was the same but different, refactored as if in a dream on a planet with trees and wildlife and only the occasional wild fire. A planet where the gravity was weaker and her secrets were heavier. It felt like her skin was finally waking up to remember the cold and the heat, both the softness and the discomfort of her lost planet. It made her homesick and long for a stronger, larger, more tangible piece of home. Not for Kal-El and his nostalgia locked within his Fortress of Solitude, but for someone who also remembered, someone who knew Krypton better than she did and truly knew what they had all lost.

She longed for Astra.

It wasn’t the first time she wondered what her life would have been like if Astra and Non had found her that day when she landed instead of Kal-El. This what if was a dark blank space filled with the gratitude that had been Kal-El who ripped her pod open, no matter how distant or complicated their relationship became. Perhaps it was sadly for the best that she and Astra had found each other too late on this new planet. Kara knew within her heart they were fated to find each other again in Rao’s light and looked forward to meeting again.

In the meantime, missing Astra terribly, Kara flicked tiny stones off the porch, both disappointed and fascinated by the short distance they traveled before quietly splashing into the nearby puddles.

It was a good ten minutes before the front door opened and Cat sneered vaguely at the weather’s stubborn instance to remain dreary. When their eyes met, Cat’s face instantly softened.

“I always thought it was human nature, but now I realize it might be far more universal,” Cat’s voice was quiet, almost reverent as she sat down besides Kara.

“Whats that?” Kara looked up, her eyes questioning and confused, fearful of what Cat would say next but trying to fill the silence just the same.

“It’s there, behind all those veneers and walls….” Cat gently tapped on Kara’s temple.

Kara’s heart beat faster, her words were almost sad, exhausted. “Always searching for that story, Ms. Grant.”

“I misread it at first.” Cat’s hand remained suspended between them, almost on the verge of cupping Kara’s face. “I thought it was something uniquely Kryptonian, that look of yours. It’s not often I admit this, but I realize now that I was wrong.”

“I don’t have _a look,_ Mr. Grant.” Kara scrunched her nose, realizing only too late that this was more of a Kara Danvers expression.

“Of course not,” Cat placated. “Has anyone ever told you one of the most effective ways to discover which people are in the most pain?”

“I’m assuming you don’t mean patient triage.” Kara frowned. Hank had trained her on how to identify, based on physical injuries and other factors, who needed the most help first. Kara very much doubted Cat cared about the protocols Kara had studied.

“It’s not just the people receiving help. You look at those helping others.” Cat’s lip twitching slightly. “That’s you, Supergirl. That’s always been you. I just didn’t see it until now. It’s so easy to forget that the saddest people often tell the funniest jokes.”

“I…” Kara could feel the myriad of emotions passing over her face start to slow down as she pushed it all away. “I don’t tell jokes, Ms. Grant.”

“You’d probably be good at it,” Cat’s tone was wistful, teasing. Affectionate. For the briefest of moments, Cat gently cupped Kara’s face. “So, thank you.” Cat reluctantly withdrew her hand from Kara’s face, allowing her attention to be diverted to the front door she left slightly ajar. For a second, it felt like they could physically witness the damp air filling the cabin.

Cat slowly disengaged, shifting away ever so slightly before placing Kara’s phone in the small space between their bodies.

“I’m not going to ask how you somehow managed to accidentally pick up the phone that my normally very competent assistant left behind on her desk or where you stowed it in your outfit. If we ever return to civilization, I’m going to talk to her about keeping a better eye on it and use an actual lock code on her home screen.” Cat gave Kara a very pointed look. “I will, however, say that if I didn’t already have an almost half decent assistant, I’d consider hiring you as a replacement. It was somewhat inspired to use what limited cell service there is in this backwoods hell to rearrange and clear my schedule for the next few days.”

“I just like to help.” Kara smiled weakly, fighting the urge to pick up her phone. It was there, whether either woman chose to openly acknowledge it or not: Cat knew beyond a doubt that Kara was Supergirl but, for some reason, Cat wasn’t going to push it any further. For now.

“Indeed.” Cat stood up and moved towards the door. Kara instantly missed the proximity. “Though you are giving me mixed messages.”

“I… I am?” Kara blinked, struggling to keep up once again. “Mixed messages? Ms. Grant…”

“Telling me every time I attempt a conversation that this isn’t an interview but then, under the guise of my assistant, you clear my schedule citing a Supergirl exclusive? On this planet that is the very definition of a mixed message.”

Cat’s hand lingered on the doorknob as she shot Kara a strange, lingering look over her shoulder. It was similar to the one from last night, unreadable yet enticing.

“You can write your story, Ms. Grant,” Kara exhaled, the words almost coming as a relief.

“There’s no story.”

Kara shot her a glare, the one she normally reserved for Alex, more affectionate than annoyed. “There is. I can see you writing it in your head. And I can’t…” Kara shook her head. She couldn’t what? Open up? Share? Protect Cat? “If I’m constantly worried about what you’ll end up writing, I’ll be distracted. I need to focus on keeping you safe. So, write your story. Publish it, use it to keep the Tribune afloat. But only after I’ve seen and approved it.” She held her finger up as Cat started to protest. “I’m not trying to copyedit for you, Ms. Grant. You have enough qualified people on your staff for that. But revealing I was Kal-El’s cousin caused a lot of havoc and expensive physical damage on National City. I know that wasn’t your intention despite how many issues it undoubtably sold as a result. It’s just a safety precaution.”

“Safety precaution is just a fancy word for censorship,” Cat shot back.

“These are the terms. I won’t endanger more people for a story. And if you publish without my consent then…” Kara looked Cat squarely in the face, trying to be as imperious as possible. “Then I’ll grant an exclusive, sit down interview to Lois Lane and even let her talk me into a photoshoot with my cousin.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“You’re right, I wouldn’t because you won’t publish without my approval.”

Cat sighed, as if physically pained, and then reluctantly sat back down beside Kara and held out her hand. “Deal. But you need to respect my publishing deadlines.”

Kara took Cat’s offered hand, for once not having to worry about gauging her strength as they shook. Once their hands withdrew, neither woman moved. Kara looked out to the rain, wishing, willing it to stop entirely. The truth about her lost powers was on the tip of her tongue. Both women pretended not to shiver.

After several minutes, Cat stood up again. “Full disclosure, I saw your letter tiles.”

“Convenient for you, I was winning.”

“Oh please, you should thank me. You have more one-point vowels than I have ex-husbands and disgruntled employees combined.”

“It’s Zor-El.” It escaped Kara’s lips as almost a whisper.

Cat stopped. There was nothing Kara wanted more in that moment than to be able to hear Cat’s heartbeat.

“What did you say?”

“My name. Our ancestral houses are very important. When I first landed, it was hard for me to accept the more casual dialect involving surnames. Kryptonian is a much more formal language. I kept saying things like House of Grant.” Kara didn’t dare look up at she spoke, her eyes distant and locked on the trees. “On Krypton… my cousin’s name was Kal-El. There’s a hyphen between Kal and El, they’re not meant to be separated. But coming here to this planet and this country, it meant that I had to call him Kal. It still feels disrespectful even now. My cousin, however, likes it. To him, it’s a show of familial affection.”

Cat, who had partially opened the door before Kara’s admission, shut the door softly but chose not to move any further, afraid that returning into Kara’s sight lines might cause Kara to go silent again.

“Names are a little different for women on my planet. Our sons take the name of our House but our daughters take the names of their fathers. I know most daughters say this about their fathers, but Zor-El was a great man. A scientist.” She smiled sadly, for a brief second allowing the tears to form before pushing them back down with a swallow. “Adopting my foster family’s name meant I would hide my father’s name, so I clung to my first name, the name both my parents gave me. I’m proud of my name, Ms. Grant. And even if I have to keep that name a secret, more than anything, I am be proud to be Kara Zor-El.” As always, she sat up a little taller, a little straighter, when she said her name. Exhibiting the natural pride that came from her family’s House. On the inside, however, her pride mixed with insecurity. She felt vulnerable, exposed, and careless. If only she could, Kara would stand up and fly away, circle the lake a few times before awkwardly returning to the cabin hoping the wind would have blown her words away. But she couldn’t and so she remained on the steps, staring at the rain against the shore.

Cat’s breath hitched. A million questions rising to the surface, toppling over each other. The most prominent being why trust her with this now? She had half expected to spend her life trying, asking, and demanding as they both flirted with the truth. Kara had been so adamant in keeping her secret just moments before. When Cat finally allowed herself to speak, her voice nearly broke, cracking along the edges of what she already knew. Despite everything she wanted to say, to ask, to know, all she was able to say was, “Cat. You should call me Cat.”

* * *

Kara was shivering when she finally came inside. Even without her super hearing, she could hear that Cat was in the kitchen making lunch. Kara felt a twinge of relief that Cat couldn’t see her now, teeth chattering, crouched in front of the fire for warmth and greedily reaching out towards the flames. Her hands became almost instantly uncomfortable from the heat and Kara quickly retracted them. It was a harsh reminder of her current but hopefully temporary limitations. With a new, ill-fitting timidness, she awkwardly wielded the fire poker in an attempt to stoke the fire.

By the time Catacknowledged Kara’s return into the cabin, Kara was sitting in front of the sun lamp, increasingly desperate for her powers to return and once again trying to read _The Odyssey._ Cat merely perked up her eyebrow at the lamp before her somewhat brusque instructions for Kara to help herself to some lunch. Cat said nothing further about her being both Supergirl and Kara Danvers. Not even when Kara returned with seconds. Or thirds. Or when Kara scooped up their dirty dishes and carried them off to the kitchen and washed them.

In fact, Cat barely said anything at all. She spent the remainder of the day curled up in the recliner flipping through one and then another cheap romance novel with a look of bored disgust. When Cat did speak outside of slicing apart the romance novels, it was about the weather and how the rain had finally seemed to stop or inquiring if Kara was hungry for dinner.

Kara nestled uncomfortably into the silence and attempted to read _The Odyssey_ , but found herself increasingly distracted by how Cat would periodically guide her oversized sleeves back above her elbows. The unfinished game of Scrabble sat demurely between them.

Hours later, when Kara was laying out the fallen pages of her book, trying to arrange them back in order, Cat stood up and without a word walked away. She returned ten minutes later, her face recently washed, and leaned against the recliner with a raised eyebrow. When Kara only looked at her blankly, Cat rolled her eyes.

“Are you coming?” Cat inquired in that imperious tone that seemed more fitting to CatCo Tower. “I don’t know what constitutes a comfortable temperature on Krypton, but on Earth, it’s too cold to sleep alone and I’d rather not shiver to death.”

Kara continued to stare, afraid that even Cat could hear her heart thumping within her chest. “The couch…”

“Is clearly uncomfortable. If I have to spend another day filled with you massaging your stiff neck, I’m going to go mad.”

Kara nodded cautiously, but Cat, knowing she had won, had already turned to walk away with the final instruction. “And no capes in bed.”

* * *

On Earth, Kara learned that lies always cost something, some lies costing more than others. It was the lies repeated over and over, wearing away something with each utterance, that Kara didn’t know how to calculate, how to tally. How to begin to understand all that was lost each time she spoke them.

1\. She was Kara Danvers. She wasn’t Supergirl.

2\. She wasn’t Kara Danvers. She was Supergirl.

3\. She felt whole. She felt real.

4\. Earth was her home, the one she thought of instinctively whenever she said the word.

5\. Falling in love was beautiful and not scary at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Log Home Living is an actual magazine. As are all the titles of the romance books mentioned.
> 
> The title is taken from Elizabeth Bishop's poem "One Art."
> 
> For the record, I am absolutely horrible at Scrabble and Words With Friends.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to Dreiser for all her help and feedback.

It was a Saturday morning when Earth started to feel not like home exactly, but possible. Survivable. Conceivable. 

Kara perched on the kitchen stool carefully calculating the force of her swinging legs. The goal was to lightly tap the kitchen counter with her toes like she had seen Alex do countless mornings and to not accidentally destroy the kitchen island. As Eliza made breakfast, Kara kept stealing glances at the hallway that led to the upstairs bedrooms and that held the promise of Alex.

Weekends had taken a quieter turn as of late. Alex had stopped inviting friends over months ago. Instead of sleep overs and jokes over pancakes, Alex had buried herself in her studies, growing ever ambitious in her academic goals. Kara’s own social life, still shadowed by the stigma of the foster system, did little to fill in the growing silences of Saturdays and the melancholy of Sundays. Even though her peers would never know the true story of how she came to live with the Danvers, the fabricated one was still enough to make both her classmates and teachers wary of her. No one knew what to say to the girl whose parents died in a fire. They feared she’d break, that a wrong word or look would re-kindle the fire and leave Kara in cinders before their very eyes. Slowly but somewhat surely, her regained sunny disposition and insatiable curiosity was starting to charm people over. It would be a while longer before Kara realized that all her secrets had taught her to instinctually hold people at a distance.

Without Alex awake, the mid-morning hours held a yet to begin quality. Kara crunched distractedly on her sugary cereal, a pre-breakfast snack, waiting. Hoping yet knowing that Alex would not fill and control the empty space, at least not like she used to. Alex had taken on a whole new presence since Jeremiah’s death. A burning silence that Kara recognized so intimately and yet felt so removed from when observed in someone else. Alex stormed into rooms, shifting and guiding them with her dark, quiet moods. In some ways she led the family now more than Eliza, and in others, she was so very clearly still a child, crumpling and cracking behind a rigid jaw and increasingly determined eyes.

Kara’s off-beat but somehow still rhythmic tap tapping against the counter, measuring out the uneven minutes until Alex, caught Eliza’s attention. Without going so far as to put down the pancake batter, Eliza paused to casually as possible inspect that no damage was being unintentionally caused. A destroyed planet and over twenty years stuck in the Phantom Zone later, Kara was only now finally and painfully undergoing puberty. For Kara, it wasn’t just the normal traumas of growth spurts and hordes of equally self-conscious insecure peers clumping in hallways and classrooms. The compulsion to fit in was life or death for the alien. Super strength became harder to hide when combined with teenage clumsiness. Kara was constantly having to recalibrate her most basic calculations with a noticeable degree of frustration. It was a forced return to her early days of trial and error of how to pick up objects or close doors but now with only the memory of Kal-El’s gentle reminders of “softer, softer, you’ve got this” to guide her.

It was a time things often went missing only to be wordlessly replaced a day later. Kara’s allowance became a broken object replacement fund and nothing akin to how her peers spent money. Though many, often smaller or irreplaceable items, sometimes simply disappeared entirely. A few were eventually rediscovered long after Kara moved to National City when Eliza finally got around to cleaning out Kara’s closet. It would be with a fond, motherly smile that Eliza uncovered items long forgotten. She even kept one on her bedroom dresser, a metal paperweight crumpled in a child’s hand as if it was a flimsy piece of paper. More closely resembling modern art than the kitschy sail boat it began as, it was displayed proudly next to the container holding Alex’s baby teeth.

That Saturday morning, however, even Eliza was fooled by Kara’s imitation of a lackadaisical teenager and was reassured of her furniture’s safety. Her attention quickly returned to the breakfast at hand, hoping the smell of pancakes and bacon would lure the moodier Alex downstairs. It was still new, this ability for Eliza and Kara to comfortably exist in a room without forced conversation, without nervous remarks, shy small talk, or attempts at instructions and lessons to fill the space. This is the difference between a sauce pan, a frying pan, and a sauté pan. This is what a baker’s dozen is and yes, a pinch of salt really is just a pinch. This is the metric system and no, no one knows why the US hasn’t fully adopted it.

Instead, this morning was covered in comfortable silence. From time to time, one or the other would peak out of her own world, exchange a glance here, a look there, and a nod in agreement over adding extra blueberries, and feel less alone for a moment.

Later, when Kara was older, she would gain a whole new respect for Eliza Danvers and how her foster mother had somehow navigated a household so full of ghosts it was sometimes hard to find a place to sit, so covered were all the surfaces with all that was lost: a father, a husband, an old way of life, an entire culture, a planet.

By the time Alex wordlessly plopped down on the unoccupied kitchen stool with the weight of the world upon her shoulders, the bacon was overcooked and Kara had consumed more than her fair share of pancakes. The two foster sisters exchanged a quick glance, within it an unspoken promise, a secret, a sisterly knowing. It was over by the time Eliza passed the warm plate of food to Alex, who grunted a thank you. Kara returned her attention to her breakfast, muffling a smile behind her fork and her long hair. 

That was the closest the two would ever get to speaking of the night before when Kara woke up to find Alex crying.

Even before Jeremiah’s death, the distance between the two foster sisters had slowly begun to crumble. The fact remained, however, that in many ways the two still felt like sisters in name and forged legal documents only. Always the perfectionist, the star daughter, the only child, Alex struggled with the sudden appearance of a shellshocked alien for a sister on the best of days. Gone with Jeremiah was the warm, steady hand guiding them into a fully formed family. Strange though it might have seemed on the outside, it was the loss and their grief over Jeremiah that eventually truly drew them together in a meaningful way.

Between decades suspended in the Phantom Zone and the nightmares, Kara was still learning how to sleep through the night. It would be at least a year longer before she achieved a more human rhythm, sleeping more out of habit and social norms than out of necessity. In the early hours of the morning when the house was heavy with a sleepy silence, Kara would slip off to the study. There she would read up on this strange new world while she waited for the sun to rise.

The night before hadn’t been any different, even with the door to the study uncharacteristically closed. Kara didn’t think to knock. She rarely did. Opening doors on Earth was such a strangely manual process, knocking often overly complicated it for her. Signs had to be added strategically in the house on the bathroom and bedroom doors as reminders.

That night when she opened the door, Kara nearly jumped from surprise at seeing her sister curled up in the middle of the floor, sobbing. In the fetal position. Kara had recently learned the phrase when, prompted by Kara’s inquiries about how the codex worked on a planet so demarcated by countless cultures and countries, Eliza explained the basics of human reproduction. There was no codex, only chance or fate, only babies like her cousin Kal-El. Maybe that was yet another reason why he seemed to fit in so seamlessly. There had even been diagrams, which had only seemed to make it worse.

Through the darkness, Kara witnessed the evolution of Alex’s face. It contorted through several emotions before it all fell away to be replaced with the more easily recognized expressions: surprise and then embarrassment were finally tucked away behind a quickly rising anger. Even that melted away leaving behind yet another an unreadable expression. Kara stared, unaware of her own expression, transfixed by Alex’s tears.

Even so many months after Jeremiah’s death, she hadn’t known, hadn’t realized that humans could cry tears. She had heard the Danvers, but had never seen. She hadn’t been sure how to translate the sounds that were never truly muffled by closed doors or swallowed up in the white noise of the shower. She knew the human changes in heart rate and breathing, but had only known the outward appearance of grief on Krypton to compare.

Ever since landing on this planet, she had been carefully keeping her tears private, even from Kal-El. She feared her tears would mark her as different, as an alien. Eliza had only seen her cry once and even then had been so focused on reassuring Kara of so many things that she never mentioned that tears were normal. Almost two years on this planet and Kara was still unsure how the Danvers expected her to grieve or survive.Until now, she hadn’t known the similarities were overwhelming.

Much like sadness, time was a disorienting concept on Earth. Her Kryptonian understanding kept tripping up against the American sense of time. It was dizzying, the complexity presented by a single planet filled with hundreds of interpretations and experiences of time. A second was both a distinct measurement of time and an ambiguous, cloudy haze of soon. “Be back in a second” was not to be understood literally. Worse was a moment. Once easily defined as a unit of time, 40 moments to a solar hour if her encyclopedia was to be correct, it had become diluted beyond understanding. “Be with you in a moment” meant seemingly nothing beyond an intent, a courtesy, a gesture. No sense of when at all. A moment could be a few minutes or several hours. Most confusingly of all, “call you back in five minutes” often signaled that someone was never going to call back. Time was no longer to be taken literally. Kara had no context to understand the phrase “be back soon.” Jeremiah had said it, ruffling her hair, before never coming back. Time was a gesture, an intent, but never a promise on this planet.

And so it was a moment and not a moment at all where the two girls stared at each other as if seeing the other for the first time.

Alex dried her eyes, dragging the fabric of her sleeve across her face. Taking this as a signal, Kara closed the door behind her and sat down beside her foster sister. Not quite touching, they were still close enough for Kara to see Alex’s eyes red and swollen, to notice how her eye lashes clung together in a very visceral way.

“You cry like my mother,” Kara whispered with a sad wonder.

Alex pulled herself up into a half sitting position, clutching a small, unidentifiable book to her chest. “You cry on Krypton?”

“You cry on Earth.”

Alex smiled weakly and returned to rubbing her eyes as if that was a cure for loss and not solely a momentary relief of a symptom. To give her foster sister some privacy, Kara shifted her focus to the window. Alex soon followed her foster sister’s outward gaze.

At some point, Alex slumped back down to the floor, falling into an unsteady sleep. Kara quietly retrieved her current encyclopedia volume before returning to Alex’s side, sitting even closer than before. She opened to the P’s, finding her place from the night before. When the warmth began to return to the sky, Kara gently shook Alex awake.

“You should go back to bed.”

Alex nodded heavily, slow to stand from under the weight of sleep. She paused at the door. “Aren’t you?”

Kara shook her head, lifting up the encyclopedia. “I still have a lot of catching up to do.”

“Where are you now?”

“Volume 9, Otter to Rethimnon.” It still seemed strange to think of her location as her place in a book and not her physical location: Earth, America, Midvale, the Danver’s study.

“Only a few more to go.” Alex looked almost impressed before closing the door.

Alone, Kara didn’t return to the place marked by her finger. She had only eyes for the sky. The sun rise always produced a strange sinking and rising sensation within her. Her skin, her muscles, down to the very thick and thin of her would waken and almost vibrate with life just as it became harder to see through the night sky to find where her home once was. She never felt more alive and more alone than in those first few moments of the sunrise.

Closing her eyes against the growing brightness, she explored the corners of her eyes with her fingertips, then her lips, collarbone, elbows, and wrists, all the way down the soft skin behind the bend of her knees. For the first time since landing, she wasn’t looking for the ways that made her Kryptonian and myriad of ways that set her apart. For the first time since living with the Danvers, she began seriously searching for the similarities in earnest, hoping and yet fearful to discover anything, everything, and nothing. With time, how much would she resemble Kal-El and the humans? How would it feel to fit in, like a betrayal or like finding a new home?

In full daylight, it was simply comforting to know that she cried both like a Kryptonian and a human.

* * *

“I know you sleep,” Cat broke the uncomfortable silence that had engulfed the bedroom as if she was settling a long standing argument, victorious and yet challenging a rebuttal.

“Of course I sleep,” Kara hissed back in protest.

Between the inactivity of the day spent on lumpy couches and painstakingly revealing some of her most vulnerable secrets, her muscles were coiled tightly yet she felt drained and raw. It was a strange kind of vulnerable relief, one less lie and disguise to uphold in front of Cat. Even with this golden lining, Kara had no idea how to navigate this new liminal space where she was Kara Danvers, Supergirl, and perhaps even Kara Zor-El, let alone the small bed they now shared at Cat’s request.

The proximity of their bodies buzzed underneath her skin, daring impulsivity when she knew, after everything and before anything else, she needed to practice restraint. Maturity.

After some consideration while in the bathroom, Kara’s strategy thus far had to been to stare at the ceiling and not move an inch until morning. She was afraid to breathe too deeply or itch her nose. Afraid she’d accidentally brush up against Cat. Afraid she’d reach out and intentionally touch Cat. Afraid of what would happen either way. Kara held her body unnaturally stiff and strived to take up as little space as possible. From the few quick glances she had braved in Cat’s direction, it seemed Cat was employing a similar uncomfortable strategy. As a result, the full sized bed felt both too vast and far too small.

This, Cat shifting her body to better face Kara and talking, signaled a change in strategy.

“Apparently quite literally like the dead if this morning is anything to go by. Nothing to say for now, which is taking it to a whole new level,” Cat whispered back, adopting Kara’s quieter volume. “You don’t kick in your sleep, do you? I imagine you don’t gauge your super strength well while unconscious and I’m quite partial to my bones being intact.”

“I don’t kick.” Not that Kara knew for sure, but unless her powers came back magically in the night it wouldn’t be much of a concern either way. If not for the Black Mercy and losing Astra, there would have at least been one assurance that her nightmares had ended years ago. “I won’t hurt you.”

“Not intentionally, perhaps,” Cat replied mostly under her breath.

Even without her super hearing, Cat’s words didn’t escape Kara.

“Cat…”

Kara’s eyes darted longingly towards the closet, lingering on shadowy silhouette of her suit hanging up. Not for the first time since turning out the light, she regretted trading it in for an oversized men’s t-shirt. Even if it was awkward to sleep in and Cat had forbid it, the cape offered her far more than the black t-shirt she was currently swimming in.

The matching borrowed and makeshift outfits were a cold comfort at best. It wasn’t like they were on equal footing, laying on opposite sides of the bed, both wearing new-smelling oversized shirts. Aware of where her own t-shirt ended on her only made Kara more aware Cat’s similarly bare legs.

Kara found herself physically longing for the relative simplicity of the hard, lumpy couch.

“Do you have any signed affidavits or references?” Cat pressed.

“You’re asking me this now? After everything I’ve… It isn’t like city hall grants certificates for superheroes.”

“For not accidentally dismembering your bed companions,” Cat corrected with a twinge of exasperation.

Kara bit her lip. “There are not… or really…” She exhaled, trying to calm herself. No need to advertise a lack of childhood sleepovers or a lack of romantic bed companions now that she was an adult. “You’re safe. You can trust me.” Realizing the relief she wanted was in sight, she added, “I can move back to the couch if you prefer.”

Cat made a noise in the dark that seemed neither to agree nor be satisfied. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

There was a long moment when Kara was lulled into believing that the conversation was over.

“So, to reiterate, you did not adopt your current sleeping position because you’re afraid of kicking me?”

“What’s wrong with my sleeping position?” There it was, the vulnerability creeping into Kara words, the voice in her head admonishing her for not being human enough.

“Do you always do your best impressions of Greek statues in bed? It's like you don’t even need to breath.”

“I’m just lying here,” Kara protested weakly. “This is how I lie on a bed. And I do breathe. I’m breathing. See, breathing.” Kara made an exaggerated show of exhaling and inhaling loudly.

“This isn’t a yoga retreat.” And then, “Just don’t get any ideas. I’m not exactly a cuddler.”

“You… what?” Kara stumbled, failing to hold back a short of nervous laughter as her mind began traveling in the directions Cat had just warned her against. At least in the darkness there was the small relief that Cat couldn’t see how brightly Kara’s face was burning. In a softer voice, she admitted, “I’m not a cuddler either. I don’t think.”

“You are full of all sorts of surprises today. I didn’t take you as a love ‘em and leave ‘em kind of girl. Yet another exclusive I’m sure I can’t publish,” Cat’s seemingly joking tone veered to almost wistful, sad.

Kara nearly choked she held back another outbreak of laughter to little success. “Trust me, it’s not like that at all. I’m not exactly used to sharing a bed.” Kara still didn’t want to admit that her foster mother was apparently always upset at Alex that Kara didn’t date more, even though that made no sense at all. Or that most of her love life could mostly be summed up by a few awkward first dates and never acted upon sexual tension or unsatisfactory beginnings. It was hard to do fun, light, and casual as a Kryptonian, and harder still for more serious relationships when hiding such an important secret.

“Well, I can imagine you’d be rather popular in Alaska or Sweden. You’re practically a furnace.” Cat remarked, not unkindly. “Being a personified electric blanket is another Kryptonian trait I take it?”

“That’s… yes. I guess it is.” Kara bit her lip, holding in the rambling explanation as to why. It was unlikely Cat wanted a lesson about solar energy.

“Kara.”

“Yes?”

Cat reached out and ever so gently pressed her fingers against Kara’s lips. “It doesn’t really belay confidence or a sense of security when I’m half-convinced that I’m sleeping next to a corpse, no matter how much heat you’re radiating.”

Kara nodded, afraid that if she moved too much or too quickly Cat would withdraw her hand. It was a moment longer, both looking at the other through the dark, before Cat’s finger finally receded back to her side. As if to demonstrate her understanding, Kara tried to visibly relax her muscles before shifting her weight and position, mindful to maintain her distance.

“Slightly better…” And then with an exhale, “Well, as invigorating as this has been, I’m going to try to sleep now.” A slight jostle in the mattress alerted Kara that Cat had shifted away from her. “Please make sure I’m not dead by morning.”

* * *

Kara woke to Cat banging around in the kitchen. Still groggy, Kara rolled over, instinctually following the patch of morning sun across the sheets. She savored the sunlight greedily like most would with their first cup of coffee. Despite the unfamiliar pain in her neck from what Kara suspected was from a too limp pillow and a desire to stretch, she lingered in bed. In the safety of the sheets, she could feel the sunlight moving through her. She tried to sense the return of her powers on a molecular level. Perhaps she imagined it, but it seemed that the light was slowly filling in all the nooks and crannies of who she had become after landing on this strange and familiar planet. Not quite fully there yet but soon.

Once up, it was no small task finding clothes in the closet that fit. It was with a reluctant resignation that she settled on a pair of men’s jeans. Despite just barely sliding over her hips, the pants slipped somewhat off her waist as she rummaged for a shirt. Once a black shirt and red flannel only slightly too big had been found, several minutes were spent determining the best way to roll up the long pants legs. It was too much to hope that her handiwork might be deemed cute or charming, Kara was merely aiming for something inoffensive that would prevent her from tripping on the denim pooling on the floor around her feet. All in all, Kara had the sinking feeling that she resembled a child playing dress up in Jeremiah’s clothes.

Hiding behind her manners, she stalled and made the bed. She folded the shirt she had slept in and, after some hesitation, placed it boldly on the thin, unsatisfactory pillow. Not that she wanted or expected to spend a third night in the cabin, but it felt like proving that she had been here, in bed beside Cat. It felt like hoping that maybe she’d be there again.

Cat barely looked up when Kara entered the kitchen and yet managed to give her a quick once over just the same.

“No worse than anything you’ve worn in the office,” Cat commented, wiping her hands and moving over to the coffee machine. “A rustic, lumberjane break from those cotton and polyester blends you haunt me with day in and day out.”

Cat reached for a nearby waiting mug as Kara lifted herself back up on the counter. The exchange, the morning, it felt almost familiar, comfortable.

“The sugar’s already in before you start grumbling.” Cat poured the steaming liquid, her back to Kara, sensing a yet to be formed protest or merely showing off. “About two spoonfuls, if I remember. I’m assuming that cinnamon is only for your millennial pumpkin foam concoctions that parade around as lattes.”

“Yes, that’s… right. How did…” Kara stumbled over her words, scrunching her eyebrows before exhaling to center herself. “Thank you.”

She wondered, not for the first time, just how much had Cat been paying attention. How much had Cat seen, how much had she figured out? And not just Supergirl, but her other secrets as well. Ones that, in the morning light, seemed oh so much more personal. It was a chilling and yet warming thought. Trying to push it away before Cat could pluck these too from the air, Kara began to pull her hair back into a loose ponytail. Realizing only too late she didn’t have a hairband, she frowned, letting her hair drop momentarily before spotting and commandeering one of the rubber bands left over from Cat’s forays in the kitchen. It was a quick second before her ponytail was held in place and Kara began to search for something else to do with her hands.

As Cat turned back around, coffee proudly in hand, her smug expression almost instantly melted away. Her face faltered and looked like she had almost seen a ghost. Kara whipped her head to either side, narrowly missing the slightly ajar cabinet door, before realizing it was her that Cat was staring at. Kara self consciously reached up, her hands paused midair unsure what to do before trying to adjust the glasses she wasn’t wearing. It was slow forming, the realization of what was going on.

“It’s still just me.”

“I don’t really think just qualifies in your case, unless you are thinking of taking on some medieval moniker like Kara Zor-El the Just.” Cat’s eyebrows perked up in disbelief, scolding Kara for her word choice as she held out the fresh cup of coffee. “You’re like those mix and match games that Carter hated when he was younger. Both Supergirl and Kara and yet…” Cat shook her head.

Kara accepted the coffee with a half-forced and self conscious smile, feeling the full strangeness of the moment. It wasn’t merely the truth finally being out in the open, or having awkwardly shared a bed the night before, let alone the role reversal of Cat handing her coffee, something that had only happened once before. There was something entirely new, different, and yet entirely familiar happening in the space between them. It was as if something hidden had finally decided to wake up. For her part, Kara chose to try to ignore it all as she blew on her coffee, wondering just how long she would need to wait for it to cool down. Wait for it all to return to normal.

“Oh please, that charade, even now? You can’t expect me to believe that the barely tepid coffee poses any kind of threat.” Cat crossed her arms challengingly. “Don’t you have freeze breath anyway?”

“My cousin is such a dork,” Kara rolled her eyes nervously before adding, “Freeze breath before caffeine isn’t always the best idea, Ms. Grant.” Kara grimaced slightly. Freeze breath wasn’t an option that morning. She wasn’t sure how to tell Cat or even if she should.

“Cat.” Cat corrected.

“Cat.” Kara repeated dutifully with a nod.

“And just how many times have you used laser eyes before _my_ caffeine?” Cat pressed on accusingly, playfully.

“Heat vision.” Kara puffed up, protesting. “The distance between Noonans and the top floor of CatCo makes it thermodynamically impossible to have it your desired temperature any other way.”

“Mmhm,” Cat hummed dubiously.

The fact that Cat had not stepped away, had not created space or distance since handing her the coffee was painfully distracting to Kara. At CatCo, coffee hand offs were more akin to passing the baton in a relay race. This moment, however, was verging on intimate.

“It’s safe,” Kara continued in a hopefully reassuring tone. “I’m sure that your research into my past informed you that my foster parents were and are scientists. It’s been tested, in the lab, repeatedly. My cousin and I are arguably safer than microwaves.”

“Everything is arguable, Kara.” Cat leaned back against the opposite counter, finally creating a thin veneer of space. “One could even _argue_ that Lois Lane is a better writer than me. They’d be wrong, but you get the point.”

It was not lost on Kara, the fact that Cat had pronounced her name correctly since arriving at the cabin.

“You know that’s something I’ve never quite understood about you.”

“Understood about me?” Cat repeated, her defenses clearly rising.

“In every other facet, you go out of your way to support women, albeit in your own way. And yet, this rivalry with Lois… this constant undercutting and snide remarks, I’ve never understood it. It’s not you, not really.”

“Well, I _am_ better.” Cat deflected with a wave of her hand.

“Cat.”

With a sigh, Cat shrugged and walked back to the stove, her back almost entirely to Kara. “Even I am not entirely without my flaws, Kara. We can all be a little petty when heartbreak is involved.”

Kara laughed awkwardly until Cat turned back around and Kara realized just how serious it was.

“Well, not break. That’s overly dramatic. But bruised slightly, at best.” Cat hands once again tried to dismiss all that had been said before.

“Because Clark is with Lois and not you?”

“All the right words, not the right order.” Cat swirled a wooden spoon in the air. “Though Clark is a refreshing glass of water, I’ll grant you that.”

After the initial face at Clark being described as anything resembling attractive, the realization slowly clicked into place.Kara felt she was staring, mouth open, as her mind slightly exploded. “Lois and you. Because Lois is with Clark and not you.”

Cat fiddled with the burner before unnecessarily stirring the still lukewarm water and tapping the pot with the spoon once, twice in clipped succession. “I was young and foolish, blah blah, poor decisions lead to personal growth.” Cat waved her hand above her head, “Whatever we had wasn’t really serious, at least not to her anyway, and then it ended. Transformed into the barbs and healthy competition that it is today, each of us winding up with our own very different version of happily ever after. She got a corn-fed Iowa poster boy and I, well, I got a media empire.” Cat, finally turning back around to face Kara, demonstrated with a flourish of her hand that she felt she clearly got the better happy ending. “To each her own.”

“Clark grew up in Kansas,” Kara corrected softly, feeling that this was easier than fully dealing with Cat’s most recent admission. Looking at it too directly might make her short circuit.

“He might have grown up there, yes.” Cat allowed before adding, “However, we can draw your family tree later.”

Kara nearly dropped her coffee before she recovered with a nervous laugh. “Cat, just because… I mean, even if you figured me out doesn’t mean you can start making assumptions about other super heroes’ identities and, and…”

“Oh keep up. I’ve known him considerably longer than I’ve known you. The glasses trick?” Cat scoffed.

“It’s not, it’s a not a trick,” Kara frowned, scrunching her nose, almost reaching up to adjust her glasses weren’t there. “They help.”

“Are you telling me that despite having just about every ability on the ‘Top 10 What Super Powers Would You Have If You Could’ list, you also have what, nearsightedness? The world isn’t nearly that equal or fair.” Cat’s eyes narrowed, her arms crossed over her chest, unimpressed.

“The glasses, they’re lined with lead. It helps me see the world more like, well, everyone else.”

“Of course. Something to dull the extraordinariness of your every day life.” Cat rolled her eyes with a feigned exhaustion and pity.

“So you… and Lois?” Kara asked too brightly.

“Yes, me and Lois.” Cat turned away, once again dismissing the importance of the admission with a wave of the spoon. It wasn’t lost on Kara the special magic in the way which Cat held things. Objects never seemed to be simply objects in Cat’s hands. A pen, a spare pair of glasses held loosely between her finger tips, even a wooden spoon were rarely just a pen, a spare pair of glasses, or a spoon. They transcended beyond their basic utilitarian functions into illustrative tools, practically physical extensions and embodiments of Cat’s vocabulary and linguistics. “It began drunkenly, mind you. There are also the fathers of both my children, divorces, and several other duds and non-starters along the way as some of the tabloids are loath to let me forget. Not all of them began drunkenly, though I suppose alcohol did play a supporting role rather regularly. Are we going to run down the entire list while I cook us breakfast?”

“No, no, not at all.” Kara shook her head, cupping her coffee. It felt strangely domestic. Not cooking breakfast, but cooking _them_ breakfast. _Us_ breakfast. Like they were an us, if only for a morning in Canada. Kara wondered if this was an elusive glance into what a relationship was like, the smell of breakfast cooking in the background. It was a strange, near panic-inducing thought, made all the more dangerous with the Lois Lane revelation. She tried and failed to clamp down on the rising feeling in her chest, warm and hopeful. She felt shy, inexperienced, and insecure. Anxious, both good and bad.

Carefully placing her mug down, she hopped off the counter, trying to sound calm and in control. “I’m going to go shower.”

Neither woman knew if it was accidental or not when she brushed ever so lightly against Cat as she walked by.

* * *

Cat could still feel the memory of the brief contact against her skin as the faint sputtering of the old shower could be heard from the kitchen. She wasn’t a romantic predisposed to hyperbole like Lois, so she would never claim that her skin buzzed or hummed. Cat, however, might begrudgingly admit that the sensation and the memory of the touch distracted her.

It meshed and molded with all the little touches that happened in the night. Stiff as a statue while awake, Kara had become fluid in sleep, moving across one side to the next and back again, brushing a hand here, resting an arm briefly there, along Cat’s shoulder and then longer still across her stomach. And so Cat struggled to fall asleep, driven to distraction by an innocent hand laying across her stomach that she had absolutely no desire to move.

“Focus, you fool,” Cat chided herself quietly under her breath as she tried to return her attention to not burning breakfast.

Cat rarely, if ever, cooked. Building and running a successful media empire left little time in the ways of culinary arts. Cat had learned early that cooking to impress anyone was false advertising at best and probably more akin to bait and switch. Besides no one ever expected Perry White to come home, don an apron, and make a pot roast. Cat bristled at the expectation that somehow she should have to. There was always that cliche in the back of her mind about women doing everything backwards and in heels, she wasn't about to do it in the kitchen as well.

She actively avoided dating anyone who hoped to find or kindle a domestic spark within her. Cat was power, wealth, and influence. She was not the American version of the Great British Bake Off or the modern ‘you can have it all’ equivalent to Leave It To Beaver by any stretch of the imagination. Cat took it as a sign of success that while people would try to use her for her connections and status, no one ever asked her for a bundt cake recipe.

Cat reserved her minimal cooking for Carter on the nights when their cooks had off. Even then it was usually delivery or a trip to one of those burger places Carter now seemed to like. However, there were still those rare nights of grilled cheese sandwiches made in the panini press that Cat had somehow wound up with after her most recent divorce. It was never anything fancy or special and Cat almost always burnt the first one. Carter always smiled and said that it was his favorite just the same.

The hilarity that she had somehow become the designated cook on this strange little rescue getaway was not lost on her. Just as it wasn’t lost on Cat that she was falling deeper into the pages of a real life lesbian sci-fi pulp fiction novel, one that was poised to go disastrously wrong.

Cat wasn’t an absolute fool or utterly damaged by her mother. She wasn’t oblivious to fact that most of population was either intimidated by her or attracted to her. In most cases, it was a delightful combination of both. It meant people were impressed, enamored even, but often gave her a safe distance. Arguably, more safe for Cat and her insecurities than anyone else but that was the charm of it all.

So Cat wasn’t blind to her assistant’s school girl crush or to Supergirl’s somehow braver, lingering looks. But somewhere between donning that fashion-backwards red cape and landing in this secluded cabin, Cat couldn’t help but hope and fear that what Kara felt was more than mere attraction. How accidental were the grazes the night before, how meaningful were the poorly-hidden blushes? If Kara had simply been Kara Danvers, Cat would have been confident beyond a doubt that she would eat Kara alive and that this fact alone would preclude any ‘where’s there a will, there’s a way’ reckless optimism.

But Kara Danvers was Kara Zor-El, an alien, if not a fledgling, modern day god.

It was almost a relief when Kara marched out of the shower and inhaled her breakfast at an alarming speed and with an uncharacteristic silence before announcing that she was going to find some cell service. She had held up the communicators as if to further illustrate her point.

“I think between the rain and Livewire, I actually managed to break them this time,” Kara admitted sheepishly before dropping them back on the forgotten Scrabble game.

Cat could hear the static from where she stood in the kitchen doorway, arms crossed with her patent bored sneer. It was true, the communicators had become white noise over the past two days, easy to ignore if it hadn’t been so worrying.

“Finding cell service might be wise, especially if that's your caveat for ending this foray into the Amish lite lifestyle,” Cat agreed cooly. “So zip up, up, and away or whatever. And if your battery has enough life, perhaps you could attend to some of the havoc that must be my email by now.”

A strange mess of emotions flickered across Kara’s features, self conscious and nervous, before her face became unreadable.“I… I won’t be flying, Cat. If Livewire is still loose and if anyone saw me hovering above the tree line answering emails, it’d only be a matter of time.”

“Oh please. We’re out in the middle of…” Cat waved her hand at the window with a frown. “Wherever this Jack London themed backdrop is.”

“British Columbia,” Kara murmured softly.

This seemed to catch Cat off guard. “British Columbia?”

“The tourism website was very convincing. Apparently ten different mountain ranges can be very attractive when setting up safe houses.”

“I thought you were joking when you said Canada earlier.”

Kara shook her head. “No. I was quite serious.”

“We crossed an international border.”

“We had clearance.” Kara’s tone was not altogether convincing.

“Oh good, because, silly me, I didn’t plan on being whisked away to Canada and forgot my passport.” Cat narrowed her eyes. “So what’s your plan, then?”

“I’m going to hike up the mountain until I find cell service,” Kara pointed to the door behind her with her thumb. “You could join if you wanted.”

“I could also go by Cat of Green Gables and take up organic salmon farming in Alaska since it’s so nearby.” Cat scoffed. “And why are you hiking?”

“I told you, someone could see me,” Kara added weakly, unconvincingly.

“Kara…” Cat folded her arms over her chest, speaking each syllable clearly and plainly. “Don’t lie to me.”

Kara fidgeted, looking down, away, and then exhaled before finding eye contact. “I can’t fly right now. I don’t… I didn’t want to worry you.”

“What do you mean, you can’t fly? I’ve seen you fly countless times.”

“Yes, I can fly but I can’t fly right now… My powers, Kal-El calls it a solar flair.” Kara exhaled, meekly, apologetically.

“And that means…?” Cat made a hurry it up gesture with her hands, her patience wearing dangerously thin.

“My powers, they’re drained,” Kara confessed, her fidgeting back in full force. “I just need a surge of adrenaline to jumpstart them back again. If something were to happen, my adrenaline will rise and they’d come back again. It’s just that, well, I can’t really use them at will right now.”

“Do you want me to hide behind a door and jump out and scare you?” Suddenly, all the little odd moments, the strange comments and behavior all fell into place. Cat’s stomach also dropped, fully feeling fear for the first time since they arrived at the cabin.

“Cat.”

“This whole time…” She held her hands out in front of her as if this gesture alone could illustrate the hurt, the betrayal.

“Well, most of the time. Not the _whole_ time.”

“A thin distinction, Kara, don’t you think.” Cat had zero patience for semantics.

“Honestly, it’s fine. Nothing to worry about. It happens occasionally. They come back. I can feel them back already, I just need…”

“The jump start. Again, my offer stands.” Cat wanted to be subdued, lulled back into the safe bubble from moments before. But wanting and feeling were often different things. Instead, she pursed her lips, crossed her arms tighter over her chest. “The earthquake.”

“It was the first time it happened. It took longer.” She looked like a child, scolded by trying to make sure the facts were right. Always a sense of justice. “Who knows, out there even, maybe I could…”

“I thought I could trust you,” Cat confessed quietly.

“You can, I told you the truth about who I was, about… it’s just, I wanted you to feel safe, to feel protected.”

“And am I, am I safe and protected?”

“You are, I promise.” Kara stood up, crossing her heart, looking very much like a well intentioned girl scout and not a super hero at all.

Cat glared. When she spoke it was with a cold disappointment. “Never lie to me about this again.”

“Cat…”

“ _Ever_ , Kara. I mean it.”

“I promise.” Kara nodded as she moved towards the door, frowning when she realized that her Supergirl boots were her only option for footwear. Cat watched as Kara slowly slid into the red boots. They seemed so strange against Kara’s otherwise human outfit. The ponytail only made the visual more disorienting.

“I’ll be back soon.” It was said with a small smile, a nervousness, a lingering at the doorway waiting to see if Cat would say anything back.

“If you can’t find me a latte out there, bring me back some pine cones. They apparently do wonders for the immune system.” Cat instructed before she stomped back in the kitchen.

* * *

Kara was not back soon.

After five minutes, Cat accepted the unrealistic nature of her expectations. Logically, it would be impossible for Kara to zip up and down the mountainside, locate cell service, and hold a productive ‘is the homicidal ex-CatCo employee under control’ conversation all within five minutes. It came more from Kara’s inability to hold a quick and efficient informative conversation than the revelation about Kara’s powers.

After twenty minutes, Cat tried to half-heartedly chide herself for being impatient. Just how elusive was this cell service and long winded the conversation? How many texts and Twitter updates and Instagram posts were happening while Cat was left alone and unprotected in the middle of godforsaken Canada? And just how was Kara’s cellphone battery supporting all of this?

Still, Cat had to admit, it was nice to exhale, to breath, to have the cabin to herself and her thoughts. There were thoughts that as a CEO, as the Queen of All Media, as Cat Grant that she simply should not have. Thoughts that were becoming increasingly frequent in close quarters. Cat simply could not, should not be fixating on her super assistant’s lips. Or the slope of her shoulders, the sound of her laugh. Or how Kara’s eyelashes seemed to gather the sunlight. Or the way she fidgeted, turned pages, and glanced up from her book shyly at Cat every so often. Or the thoughts, the history, the secrets underneath the Kara Danvers facade that held Cat’s rapt attention.

After an hour, Cat began to believe that there was simply more going on than a millennial recovering from social media withdrawal. The cabin became a vast void where Kara was supposed to be.

Cat placed an unnecessary log on the fire, nearly suffocating it, before proceeding to prod the flames in a vigorous staccato with the poker. A more outdoorsy person might claim to be stoking the fire, but alone to her thoughts, Cat made no such claims or pretense. She was very openly taking her impatience out on the firewood.

Kara’s words echoed throughout the cabin, tinted by Cat’s own bitter laugh. _You’re like me. You believe in hope._ Even now, when life seemed so far removed from the time Supergirl arrived at Cat’s home, the memory made Cat think back ruefully. Wistfully.

There was a time when Cat had hoped more easily, more openly. Then came the years when she tried to break herself of the habit, to rise above the shameful weakness of optimism. With age came the ever constant building then fortifying the wall of her cynicism and accessorizing with stylish armor built to match. Her ability to hope was encrusted underneath the painful reality of the world, now more a memory than a practiced skill. Things worked to her favor because she had built up power and leveraged her privilege. Her media empire was not because the world was a good place full of magic and opportunities for all. She had been one of the rare few able to play the game and had mostly won.

It was almost shameful and scary to admit that, even after all these years, that she still had hope. Even when she knew herself to only be a thin husk of a former believer, there it was waiting coyly off to the side, never leaving her side. All the while letting her fool herself that she was hard and strong, well protected against the inevitable disappointments of the world.

Cat found hope and beauty time and time again in the smell of Carter’s hair. She even caught a glimpse here or there when Adam appeared out of nowhere in National City. She found it in Kara, in Supergirl like a nervousness in her chest, scared and shy. It made her stand just a little bit straighter with a little less effort. Cat was left to wonder how and why after all these years had she managed to retain this, to find it in her life time and time again.

Her mind circled and twisted back around to Leslie, following the well formed mental divots that plagued her since the helicopter accident. When had it happened really, when had Leslie started to become Livewire? It was long before the lightening and the hospital room. How many years, how many decades had Leslie been contorting around some personal darkness while Cat had been leveraging it to fuel a popular morning radio talkshow? What could, what should Cat have done with all that pain and angst? What were the true and proper bounds and restrictions of an employee-employer relationship? Was it even within Cat to try to heal, to help, to realize that fame and success would never heal all wounds. Or almost any wound for that matter.

Thinking of it now, it left her cold and alone, wanting and waiting. She nearly suffocated the fire entirely when she placed on yet another log.

After two hours, Cat tried push her growing fears aside. Not patient enough hold the tattered copy of _The Odyssey_ together, Cat didn’t fare much better with the romance novels. She could feel her brain cells die and ability to form logical thoughts diminish. Not that she really expected anything different from a book entitled _The Viking Wants Forever_.

Playing herself in Scrabble was a pale attempt at entertainment and a hollow reminder of Kara’s absence. The tiles skittered across the floor as Cat flung the board across the room. It was action that was immediately followed by the firm resolution that Cat would not be the one to clean them up. She slammed the front door behind her, playing up to the imaginary audience of her displeasure, and sat on porch in a huff.

Where was Kara? Without her powers, there was no kitten stuck up a tree, a house on fire, an old timey bank being robbed, or a polite Canadian mugging as excuses for her absence. Cat couldn’t convince herself that Kara was flying from one disaster to another, stringing a necklace of good deeds across the west coast until she would finally come back. Instead entirely human fears began creeping into Cat’s mind. Had Kara tripped and twisted an ankle? Had she fallen or gotten lost? Did Kryptonians get hypothermia, without their powers could they die of exposure? How was Cat supposed to find her, she didn’t even know which way Kara had left.

After four hours, the worry evolved into anger, slipping into exhaustion only to return back to worrying all over again. Cat paced back and forth, wearing ruts in her mind, loops and circles and ever more complicated spirals of rage and anxious impatience.

Slowly, in between waves of fatigue and frustration, Cat began to plan. Began to account for the what ifs and worst case scenarios plaguing her. What if Kara didn’t return, what if Cat was left here alone, lost and forgotten in a foreign country. She’d wait until morning and then set out. Three hours in one direction, circle back and then start over again in a different direction, shouting Kara’s name until she went hoarse no doubt. Cat never watched wilderness survival movies, never read the books. The whole genre had seemed a bore. She knew how to hold an all-male boardroom but didn’t know the first thing about hiking, let alone how to run a one person manhunt or cross an international border without a passport. There had to be a better solution besides spelling out help on the lake’s shore and waiting. Underneath the anger that Kara had abandoned her was the fear that something horrible had happened to Kara. And if that something horrible was Livewire, Cat knew she had only herself to blame. She was the origin point, the creation story behind Livewire.

After five hours, the door swung open to reveal Kara, muddy and exhausted.

“Oh, you.” Cat looked up from where she had been fuming on the recliner and tried to seem icily nonchalant.

“Cat, I am so sorry.” Kara crossed the room similar to how she moved through CatCo after three, maybe four failed “Kiera” birdcalls. Except unlike at CatCo, Kara’s feet dragged with exhaustion, her shoulders drooped just a little. Signs that Kara had not been successful out there.

“Where were you?” Cat glared, stubbornly still trying to seem displeased. “And why are you covered in mud?”

“It took me a while to find service.” Kara paused halfway across the room, suddenly seeming unsure. “And then… No one picked up. And so I waited, answered some of your emails… when my battery finally died, I came back.” There was a sadness, almost a resignation to Kara that raised the hair on the back of Cat’s neck.

“In terms of rescue plans, this has been going brilliantly. Well done.” Cat slow clapped, hoping to drive back the fear, the panic, and everything else that had rose to the surface in Kara’s absence.

With a defeated exhale, Kara almost seemed to shrugged. “You’re alive, aren’t you?”

“I hope that’s not your only metric for success in this endeavor.” Cat narrowed her eyes.

Kara glared back, seeming far more like Supergirl than Kara Danvers. Then, as if doubling down on her own words, Kara moved only a short distance away. Cat could almost reach out and touch her. Almost. “Rescue missions aren’t five star spa treatments, Cat. Livewire is trying to kill you and, more than anything, I need that not to happen. And right now that means hiding out in a secluded cabin in the middle of British Columbia at least until I get my powers back.”

Both women stared at the other, stubborn, unflinching, and unwilling to back down.

Kara sat down on the couch with a sigh. She rolled her pants up just enough to slowly wedge her Supergirl boots off. One and then the other, they were placed side by side on the floor, suddenly seeming more like a cast aside halloween costume than anything else.

“I don’t know how to be myself around you,” Kara admitted, her fingers lingering on the edges of her left boot before looking up, almost vulnerable.

“You as Kara Danvers or you as Supergirl?” Cat crossed her arms, unamused. “With all that hiding and lying, it’s not that surprising.”

“I’m not…I don’t…” Kara bit her lip, conceding. “I don’t have a choice. When your planet took me in, it was with the unspoken agreement that I had to assimilate and hide who I am. The powers, these abilities that I have are terrifying. Knowing who and what I am puts everyone around me in danger. So the costume, the lies? It’s the only way I’m allowed to help or give back. Are you really mad about that?”

Cat frowned, but stubbornly looked away as if yes, that really was what she was mad about.

“Come on.” Kara tipped her head to the side. “Should I really have marched into your office the day after I saved my sister’s plane from crashing, sat down on your couch, and told you I was ready for my first exclusive?” Kara almost laughed at the image before standing up, the fire burning behind her eyes. When she spoke again, it was softer, quieter. Confident. “Would you have even believed me then?”

Cat opened her mouth and then closed it, shaking her head. “Initially? No.”

“You threatened to fire me when you first figured it out. I need this job. I need CatCo, James, Winn, you… especially you, Cat. You challenge me, you sense when I’m feeling lost or rudderless and know just the right words to get me on track,” Kara continued. “I need that. But even now, I feel like you’re looking for something, for someone. You know the truth and I’ve always been me, Cat. I’m right here. The problem is, these details you want, I’m still figuring them out myself.” Kara implored as she took another step forward.

Cat pressed her lips together as if the very act would prevent all the air from being let out of her rage. Cat didn’t enjoy the release of her anger in such a peaceful manner. She had been slowly building up for a fight since Kara left that morning. She wanted to scream, to shout, to be declared right and be found the winner. The thin line of her mouth shifted into a frown before softening entirely as she reached to brush away a small patch of mud across Kara’s cheek with a mild tsk. “Really Kara.”

And then when neither woman spoke, Cat moved to fill the silence. “I just don’t understand you sometimes,” Cat admitted with an exhale. “You can seem so spectacular, and other times…” She gestured at the limp boots caked in mud. “So almost ordinary, so close to verging on average. It’s the best lie you ever told.”

Cat took a step forward and then another, closing the space between them until they were only inches apart.

“I have achieved every one of my passions, I have uncovered countless secrets from Lance Armstrong's doping to Supergirl’s true identity.” The corner of her lip revealed a small, almost private smile as if they were the only two in the world in on the joke. “I am the Queen of All Media. Yet here I am with you, in a cabin in the middle of nowhere British Columbia without even so much as a Molson to wash it all down, and still wondering why I haven’t figured you out yet. Now don’t get me wrong, I have figured a lot of you out, Kara. You’re not so elusive and tricky as all that. But, yes, I admit, there are other, inescapable, confounding things about you that elude me.”

Kara gulped. “Me as Kara or me as Supergirl?”

“Oh keep up.”

The cabin seemed like an entirely different world, one where CatCo existed as a faraway, never been to place. Not that being hundreds of milesaway from where HR policies were written was any excuse for how close they were standing. Not for the small step forward Cat took. Or for how Kara stopped fidgeting and bit her lip, almost welcoming, willing what would happened next. There was no logic, no reason, no rational explanation for Cat breaking her own rule, several rules in fact, by rising up on her tiptoes to kiss Kara.

Cat wasn’t sure what she expected. A halt, a pause, a breaking apart surely. Then it would be the confused looks followed by a flip but perhaps somewhat stuttered remark on her end. An awkwardness that would follow them uncomfortably around the cabin, lingering across days and even weeks and would color their interactions back at CatCo.

Whatever Cat was expecting, it wasn’t this. Kara chased and followed as Cat pulled away, dipping her lips down to recapture Cat’s. Cat hadn’t expected Kara’s hands, both shy and bold, like they had never touched anyone before. Or how hungry and desperate Cat felt, reaching and almost pawing like a hormonal teenager herself. Cat can’t deny that once or twice, she had let herself daydream about being lifted and carried across rooms by Supergirl. She hadn’t anticipated this bumbled and clumsy path, finding each and every wall between the fireplace and the bedroom with a laugh, a giggle, a whispered urging of “Don’t stop.”

She hadn’t expected how soft Kara’s skin was to the touch, her gentle whimper and guttural moan, the flood of words that were foreign and not quite human.

* * *

In the hours between when they fell into bed and the loud, imperious noise that would wake them up in the early morning hours, Cat stared up at the ceiling. In their haste, the light had been left on and neither had left the bed to turn it off. She judged the way the paint chipped, revealing what could only be years of neglected water damage. She would memorize the entire pattern of decay if she could, if it would help her better ignore Kara slumbering beside her. If she could truly delude herself into believing that she wasn’t savoring how their two naked bodies felt side by side, that she wasn’t instead memorizing how Kara’s arm was slung just so across her stomach. Cat tried to be engulfed in the silence of the countryside and lie to herself.

1\. There were no butterflies. Nothing more than a passing attraction between two consenting adults.

2\. The kiss and everything that followed didn’t mean anything, couldn’t mean anything.

3\. This was further proof that Cat was a horrible mother, that her sons deserved better. That maybe her mother had been right all along.

4\. It should have never gotten that far. In the morning, it would have to all be over. It would be better this way.

5\. Cat knew what she was doing. Kara would understand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your comments! I'm terribly shy and slow at responding, so please know that they mean a lot and have made me smile.
> 
> The Viking Wants Forever is a real book.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Massive thanks to Dreiser for reading this through and providing insight, not only once but twice because sometimes it takes that long for me to accept good advice.  
> And thank you to everyone for your patience.

It was a surprisingly jarring transition. After so many days with only Cat for company,the DEO—so loud and overwhelming in comparison— felt like rush hour at Grand Central Station. It was hard to keep up with the faces, the crowds, the purposeful skeletons rushing by.

Feeling the cabin on her skin like a thin layer of dirt, it was hard to feel like she belonged among the freshly laundered black polos. Her mind kept sneaking back. Already the time at the cabin felt so distant and untouchable, yet so distractingly present. Kara wanted to hold onto it all, the softness of Cat’s lips and the sharpness of her nails against her skin.

When would time adequately dust over the anxiety, the thrill, the everything from yesterday? Kara was sure, over time, that her failed attempts at jumpstarting her powers on the Canadian mountainside would become comical. After all, her increasingly desperate attempts at spiking her own adrenaline followed the traditional, comedic narrative structure. Even after it became clear that it was a lost cause, still she tried for at least an hour longer. Her mounting frustration and desperation would be perfect fodder for an amusing story. The ending, the twist was that her powers came back in the morning. Naked in bed, limbs intertwined with Cat, who apparently did cuddle after all, awoken by the loud, incessant pounding on the door by her covert government agency coworkers.

Up like a shot and back in her Supergirl suit in a blink of an eye, Kara answered the door before she fully realized her powers were back. Would her boots, muddy and forgotten in a pile by the couch amongst the Scrabble tiles scattered across the floor, be an important detail in later retellings? Barefoot, practically gaping at her sister in full tactical gear, and all Kara could do was hope her bedhead wasn’t too obvious.

No doubt, it’d make a funny story someday. But would Kara’s retelling truly capture how, midway through the greetings and the start and stop explanations of what happened to both sisters, Cat sauntered out of the bedroom? Back in her designer dress, Cat looked like she was in between boardroom meetings and had merely wandered into the Canadian wilderness in search of ice for her scotch. Kara would never forget the look on Agent Ibori and Manzo’s faces when Cat nonchalantly inquired if the cavalry had thought to bring a decent latte with them before scolding their carelessness.

Kara had felt incredibly self conscious about the disarray and damp, musty smell of the cabin. In three days, underwhelming and lackluster as it was, the cabin had somehow become her cabin. Special. But now the spell was over and it was turning back into an ordinary and lacking thing in the presence of others. The transformation felt almost shameful.

There was no typical morning after for her and Cat, no awkward coffee or burnt toast. Instead, she had flown the humvee back over the international border to the sterile-smelling DEO base. Once there, Cat had been quickly ushered into one room by J’onn, presumably to sign several airtight NDAs, while Kara was led into the infirmary by Alex. It was only because of her X-Ray vision that Kara knew Cat was escorted out an hour later.

All and all, it was a funny story. Or would be someday, perhaps. But not one Kara quite felt like telling yet. It still felt unfinished, ever present and unfolding in a nervous excitement, distracting her as she struggled to focus on Alex’s tale of Livewire’s recapture.

“So Cat’s safe,” Kara confirmed in the long pause left open by her sister.

“Mendez and Pillay are in the medical ward and we experienced fairly extensive structural damage to large parts of the entire base, but yes, Livewire is back in custody and Cat Grant is safe, at least until she fires someone else.”

Kara reached up and unconsciously touched her cheek, perplexed by the softness of her own skin until she noticed how Alex was looking at her. Her hand guiltily dropped to her side.

“So how was it?” Alex pressed, still eyeing her sister curiously.

Kara shrugged, leaning slightly away from where she was perched on the exam table. She didn’t have the words yet. Magical and surreal, yet nothing like that at all. Physical, grounding, and overwhelmingly scary. But also incredibly private, not quite hers to tell yet.

“It was okay, I guess. Mostly boring.” Kara shifted uncomfortably.

“Mostly boring?” Alex arched her eyebrow up, measuring her disbelief in volumes. “You spent several days in a secluded cabin with Cat Grant and it was _mostly boring_?” Her eyes narrowed, examining Kara closer. “How come I don’t believe you?”

Kara retreated under the scrutiny.

“I mean, we played Scrabble. The book selection is horrible, Alex. And the food wasn’t much better. I mean, it was amazing Cat cooked anything half-edible at all, I know I couldn’t have.” As the reverence rose in her, Kara averted eye contact.

Alex’s eyes widened in disbelief, momentarily distracted. “Cat Grant cooks?”

“Apparently she thought I’d burn the only decent food with just a look.” Kara rolled her eyes affectionately, something not lost on Alex.

“Did she, now?”

“Well, it’s not like I could,” Kara laughed nervously. “The whole lost powers thing.”

“And they’re back now?”

“I did just fly the humvee back across an international border,” Kara huffed.

“How? I mean, how’d they come back?”

“I mean, the sun lamp helped,” Kara sputtered. “And the rain stopping, obviously.”

Alex crossed her arms, clearly having none of whatever it was that Kara was trying to get away with, and waited for the answer that would surely come. Though Kara would never say it out loud, her sister was probably the most intimidating and powerful person she knew. More so than Cat even. In the early days of learning how to be Supergirl, she had consciously often mirrored her sister’s movements. With time, the strength, the confidence, the gestures felt more like her own. But still the origin would always be traced back to her sister. An unspoken tribute.

“You guys knocked really loud… Like startlingly loud.” Kara coughed, deciding not to finish her sentence anymore.

“Kara, you thought Livewire might _knock_?”

Kara was saved from answering as J’onn walked into the room and getting a closer look at the sisters.

“What are you two talking about?” J’onn furrowed his brow, not quite sure if he wanted to know.

“Nothing, sir.” Kara shook her head, scratching at the base of her neck, trying to ignore Alex’s very pointed ‘we will talk about this later’ glare.

“Is it a nothing I want or need to know about?”

“Knocking, actually,” Alex chimed in, only needing a second to recover.

“It’s an earth custom I used to struggle with.” Kara shrugged with a smile “You, too, it seems.”

J’onn flashed a look behind him and sighed. “Do you want me to go back and knock?”

“No, sir.” Alex shook her head.

* * *

“That better be potstickers I smell.” Kara disentangled herself from the couch with some reticence. The wait at the restaurant must have been longer than usual. She had expected Alex to show up unannounced twenty minutes ago.

“And egg rolls,” Alex confirmed as Kara swung open the door, allowing the smell of fried food to permeate her apartment.

“The Canadian wilderness has nothing on Chinese take out,” Kara gushed as she liberated one of the take out bags from her sister’s arm.

“Yeah, about that.” Alex shimmied out of her jacket before joining her sister with the other half of their unhealthy dinner in tow.

A potsticker already in her mouth, Kara tried to look innocent mid-chew. She swallowed guiltily.

“What are you going to do?” Alex asked.

“Do? About what?” Kara feigned innocence and confusion.

“About whatever happened in the cabin with Ms. Grant,” Alex expanded, helping herself to an egg roll.

“Alex. I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Kara scrunched her face up in protest and laughed. “We played Scrabble.”

“Can you please try to remember that you are terrible at lying?” Alex smiled affectionately. “It’s the ninth wonder of the world that more people haven’t figured out your secret identity.”

“Really, nothing happened. And I can lie when I need to!” Kara puffed out before chewing defeatedly on another potsticker.

“Right,” Alex placated without seeming altogether convinced. “So what happened at the cabin, really?”

“There’s nothing really to tell. I mean, I re-read part of _The Odyssey_ and went for a hike by myself looking for cell service.” Kara made a half hearted, last ditch effort before deftly maneuvering another potsticker into her mouth.

“ _The Odyssey_? That book always makes you so sad…” Alex paused. “Kara. You didn’t.”

Kara averted her eyes, no longer able to even feign innocence. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Kara, look at me.”

“I mean I’m sure I didn’t do whatever you think I did or didn’t…” Instead of looking at her sister, Kara reached for another potsticker.

Alex glared and then sighed, resigned but worried. “She knows, doesn’t she?”

“Knows what? That I’m Supergirl or that I have a big massive crush on her?” Kara leaned back on the sofa with a groan, tossing her sister a nervous glance before pulling a pillow across her chest, careful to not destroy the pillow in her grip. “Because, I mean, either way, you have a hundred percent chance of being totally right.”

“Kara!”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry. But she guessed, Alex.” Kara sat up to better defend her honor. “She laid out reason after reason about how she figured it all out and there was no way I could refute it all. I mean, I thought I was doing the whole secret identity thing fairly well. But I was so, so very wrong.” Kara waved away her previous assumptions. “But hey, now I know, there are a bunch of things I need to pay better attention to. Seriously, I doubt Kal ever has to put serious consideration into perfume. Or cologne. I mean, I think I have to stop wearing it altogether. Or at least start wearing a far more common one. What is even a ‘common perfume’ anyway?” Kara exhaled as if any further thought of perfume would exhaust her on a deep cosmic level.

Catching the look on her sister’s face, Kara quickly added, “Still, I mean, I don’t think _everyone_ knows. Maybe I’m not as covert or stealthy as Kal, but I still think overall…” Kara shrugged unconvincingly. “Besides, Cat is just really observant. Like unnaturally observant. I swear, it’s her super power.” Her tone fluctuated between placating and optimistic, some moments believing her own words and other moments trying to convince even herself, laughing nervously throughout. “I mean, there’s a reason that she’s Queen of All Media, Alex. Cat Grant is hardly everyone.”

“Kara…”

“She won’t tell.” Kara’s tone turned serious. She trusted Cat. She wanted, needed Alex to as well. “She can’t. She promised, Alex. Cat understands what’s at stake.”

“And J’onn made her sign an NDA.” Alex nodded warily, firmly pressing her lips together. It wasn’t long until she softened. There was a slight stutter to her a smile, the slightest of cautious frowns trying to break through, before calibrating her expression correctly to show that she understood, but more importantly, trusted and supported sister.

Alex’s voice became gentle. “How does it feel, I mean, now that she knows? Now that you know that she knows?”

“I… it feels,” Kara struggled to find the words, her physicality lightening. “It feels nice. Good. A relief, I think, in a really scary way.”

There was a strange, unreadable expression that flickered across Alex’s face before it became clear that Alex really did understand. Or, at least wanted to.

“And the other thing?”

“What other thing?” Kara looked down, her voice low as she picked at the couch. “I don’t know, it just happened.”

“Did it just slip out…?” A perk of the eyebrow relayed a deep, sisterly curiosity.

“No, I… I think she… already knew. Maybe. She kissed me last night, Alex.” Kara turned to face Alex, her face a whirlpool of emotions circling and twisting. “One minute we were talking and I don’t remember leaning down or… she kissed me. Like _really kissed_ me, Alex.”

It took Alex a second to recover, to digest, to understand. “You kissed?”

It was a facial evolution that made Alex believe in love. Scrunched with determination, Kara seemed to hold back something with all her super strength, afraid and unsure of what would happen once it escaped out into the real world. Then, slowly, heralded by a tugging at the corners, it gave way to a shy smile growing bolder. Kara’s tight grip on the pillow across her chest loosened. Her body practically vibrated as a squeak of pure joy, building up from deep within her lungs, burst out.

It was the same as when she had flown for the first time in years: proud and scared. Everything felt so incredibly _right_.

As if this sensation could be translated into English, Kara tried to explain, “She said my skin was soft…”

Kara reached up to touch her cheek, again repeating the gesture for the countless time, once again confirming the softness for herself to her own surprise. On Earth, she was always too strong, physically impervious. Always everything had to be done gently, lightly, carefully. She could withstand fire, hurricanes, and endless hails of gun fire. Her cousin was the Man of Steel. Kara had quietly taken to thinking of herself as not only the Last Daughter of Krypton, but the Woman of Steel as well. She wasn’t soft. She wasn’t delicate, or demure, not really.

And yet, then there was Cat, whispering it over and over as if she was stating a well known and undisputed fact.

“Soft?” Alex repeated affectionately. “And you kissed her back, I take it.”

Kara blushed, her stomach tightening as she remembered Cat’s nails against her somehow soft skin. She nearly shivered remembering how Cat purred in her ear that she could still smell a hint of Kara’s perfume.

“What happened next?” When Kara didn’t answer right away, Alex prompted, “I mean, you and Cat kissed. I’m sure she had to have said something.”

Kara slowly drifted back to earth. Cat had said a great many things. She had said oh god over and over and Kara’s names and so many other words and phrases and instructions of harder, softer, don’t stop. Everything had been in the now, in a place so removed from the rest of the world that any description of it now back in National City seemed thin, paltry. Finally, Kara shook her head.

“There really wasn’t time, Alex.”

“Was the Scrabble game that pressing?”

“I mean, you showed up.”

“At 6 in the morning.”

Kara tilted her head to side, wishing she had her glasses to fiddle with. “We didn’t just… I mean, it might have been a bit more than just a kiss.”

Alex’s eyes widened.

“We might have… slept together?” Kara admitted shyly.

“You… you… slept with Cat Grant.” Alex tried to not to look at stunned as she felt. “Wow. I mean… how was it? Actually, no. I so don’t want to know anymore than what your face just told me.”

“Alex, it was just so…” Kara closed her eyes and groaned, an uncontainable smile seeming to infect her entire body. After a second, she peeked a look at her sister, “You know?”

“No.” Alex grinned teasingly. “But you do.”

It was several hours later, the Chinese food long gone, the unnoticed drops of duck sauce starting to congeal on the coffee table, and the credits to the second movie were rolling across the screen when Kara’s face became strangely serious. The whole weekend stretched out before her. It had felt so long ago, that Tuesday when Livewire broke free. The time between now and when she’d see Cat on Monday loomed, an unmanageable expanse of time.

“Alex, what am I going to do?"  Could, should she contact Cat? Would Cat contact her? What would Cat say, what should Kara do? Her world had shifted in Canada, the rules had somehow changed. "What happens now?”

* * *

The weekend passed unevenly, time being marked by text messages constantly revised and revisited, but never sent. By fingers hovering over the call button. Whole conversations imagined, rehearsed and replayed over and over. A war was waged between waiting for Cat to call and thinking she should make the first move. Come Monday, the weekend, defined by inaction and anxiety, ended in a confused, unsatisfactory stalemate.

Despite arriving at CatCo an hour earlier than usual, it was a hectic morning marked by angry, impatient voices on the other end of the phone and two comically overflowing inboxes. It was surprising to find all that fell through the cracks in Kara’s absence, overwhelming to uncover all the small but significant emergencies that piled up in the sudden, unplanned disappearances of both Cat and Kara. Despite the chaos of a first day back and the curious stares of her coworkers, Kara whistled on the elevator and smiled in the bullpen. There was sense of hope overpowering the anxiousness within, the impatience to find out what would happen next.

Instead of focusing on the hold music of Cat’s spa, Kara replayed how Cat had effortlessly guided the oversized shirt over Kara’s head. How Cat’s hands trailed down to Kara’s hips. Kara quickly crossed her legs, remembering how intimately she now knew her bosses tongue. Kara swallowed, driven to distraction about how Cat had looked up, wordlessly asking for consent before slowly unbuttoning Kara’s jeans, nearly missing it when the bored receptionist finally picked up. Kara recrossed her legs and tried to focus on rebooking and confirming all of Cat’s missed and upcoming spa treatments.

It was unintentional, at first, avoiding both Winn and James that morning. Her day was overflowing with impatient editors in Europe and how Cat’s calendar that had been thrown into absolute chaos. But even so, it quickly became an excuse and nothing more. Kara knew that when they talked, they would ask questions, questions she felt unable, unwilling to answer. It wasn’t so much trying to keep a secret as relishing in something private, something hers, something she was nervous to let out in the air before knowing what might happen next.

Even with her head burrowed in her desk, Winn still found an opportunity to try to catch up by intercepting her at the elevators as Kara rushed back into the bullpen with Cat’s latte.

“So, tell me already, I’m dying to know.” He saddled up next to her, struggling slightly to keep up with Kara’s clipped pace. “Where were you last week _with Cat_?”

“Canada,” Kara whispered underneath a strained smile.

“The email you sent said a Supergirl exclusive…” Winn prompted in a whisper, making confused hand gestures. “How was she… if you were…”

“Let’s just say it wasn’t the exclusive she was expecting,” Kara replied, trying to keep her voice down, hoping her blush wasn’t noticeable, as she stopped in front of her desk. Her ears focused on Cat’s personal elevator, waiting, longing to catch her boss’ morning monologue. “But I think she got at least some of what she wanted.” Kara swallowed. “Hopefully.”

Winn looked exasperated. “Hopefully? What kind of exclusive did she get?” His eyes darted around before he lowered his voice further, “She doesn’t know, does she, that you’re… _you know_?”

“She’s here,” Kara ended the conversation with an obvious sigh of relief.

She held her breath in anticipation at the telltale signs of the elevator beginning to rise up to the top of CatCo tower. Kara reached up with her free hand to once again check if her skin was really as soft as Cat had claimed as her heart beat faster, louder. Kara wasn’t sure how to act. Suddenly, she realized, she should have reached out. She should have called, she should have texted. They should have talked before this moment.

As the elevator opened, the time for regrets evaporated as the floor flew into a flurry of productivity. Habit kicked in and Kara rushed to join Cat, holding out the coffee.

“Ms. Grant.”

“Meeting, my office, 5 minutes ago,” Cat barked to the bullpen, taking her coffee from Kara like it was a surgical procedure, their hands never touching. “Chop chop.”

As the meeting started, Kara positioned herself in the back of Cat’s office behind the department heads, somewhat intentionally avoiding James. Throughout the short meeting, Kara kept trying and failing to catch Cat’s eye. When the meeting was dismissed, Cat waited until almost everyone filed out and Kara was left trying to come up with a reason to linger before bidding, “Kiera, stay.”

And then, when Kara paused, added, “The door, close it.”

Kara shut the door, taking the moment to center herself. Cat was strangely unreadable. Kara turned around and approached Cat’s desk.

“Kara…” Cat started, resting her hand on the desk, unable to find the remainder of her sentence.

“Cat.” Kara reached her hand across the desk, placing it next to Cat’s. For a heart pounding second, their hands lay side by side. Cat lifted her pinky so that it ever so slightly rested on top of Kara’s before suddenly withdrawing her hand entirely.

“It’s Ms. Grant in the office. Ms. Grant to Kara Danvers.” Cat frowned and sat down, gesturing for Kara to do the same before rubbing her temple distractedly.

“Of course, Ms. Grant.”

Recognizing the gesture, instead of taking the offered seat, Kara moved to the bar to pour Cat a glass of water and bring back two headache tablets. She placed them down in front of Cat before finally taking the offered seat. Kara crossed, uncrossed, then recrossed her legs nervously. The desk, so familiar, seemed vast, like miles lay in between them.

With only the slightest hesitation, Cat chased the tablets with a large, swallow of water. They were then chased by the familiar white tablets that Cat kept hidden in her desk.

“Next time I am absconded on some rescue mission, I hope my would-be savior remembers to take my Lexapro along for the ride.” As always, the mention of Lexapro was practically a whisper.

Kara winced as Cat returned to rubbing her temples.

“Naturally, I will be writing the exclusive.”

Kara nodded mutely. 

“I plan on keeping my promises,” Cat continued formally.

“I trust you.” Kara tried to encapsulate that trust in her voice, but she feared it wavered. The moment had taken such an unanticipated turn that she felt at a loss at how to keep up.

“There is the question of what I can actually publish as I imagine so much should be considered…” With a flick of her hand, Cat dismissed whatever she was about to say next, “but I’ll figure it out. I always do.” Cat looked out the window, tapping her finger against the edge of her desk. Her face reached some kind of resolution before turning back to Kara. “I wanted to…”

But when Cat didn’t continue her sentence right away, Kara, underneath her growing dread and her thunderously beating heart, heard herself prompting, “You wanted to what?”

“What happened… if you feel like you were forced or coerced or in any way, because of my position or… it was not my intention. Naturally if you feel like this or other equally valid feelings, I can only respect your need to, well, speak to HR or whoever and do whatever you feel you need to do. I want you to know that I understand and respect that. You are a valued member of staff and I overstepped.”

“Cat, that’s not-… Ms. Grant, I mean… I don’t-… You didn’t…” It felt wrong, inconceivable that Cat should be sitting across her saying these things. “It’s okay. I wanted-…” However, Kara’s protest, the verbal expression of her heart dropping to the floor, was cut off by a brisk knock on the glass door by a disheveled, balding man.

“Snapper.” Cat’s eyes narrowed as the door opened, her body language changing almost instantly. “This is not a good time.”

“What’s this I hear about a Supergirl exclusive?” He barked as he stormed into Cat’s office.

“Probably more than you need to know, considering I’m writing it.” Cat leaned back, her body language finishing its shift into the more recognizably confident Queen of All Media. “I branded her, she’s _my girl,_ Snapper.”

This only riled Snapper further, igniting a back and forth that Cat clearly knew she’d win but was entertaining anyway.

Largely ignored, Kara stood up, hoping that the shakiness she felt in her legs wasn’t visibly noticeable. It felt strange to be argued over by the two people currently making her feel invisible. Unable to stay in the room, unable to pretend that her heart wasn't breaking, Kara exited without a word, without so much as a glance back. No matter what intonation Cat used when she ‘my girl.’ No matter if Cat paused to watch Kara leave.

* * *

The rest of day went horribly. They barely spoke. Whatever comfort, whatever intimacy that had been formed was seemingly left behind on the Canadian ice.

Realistically, there was no time to salvage the day. Kara knew that. Cat’s schedule was an onslaught of nonstop meetings, progress updates, here’s what you missed, and this needs to be signed, approved, and sent to legal right away. And Kara was just as busy trying to keep up with the growing and shifting list of priorities. The closest Monday ever got to reassuring Kara that Canada wasn’t a strange, prolonged delusion was when Cat bellowed “Kara” across the bullpen. Not Kiera or any of her other nicknames, but Kara. Those that heard paused before pretending like they didn’t notice, unsure what this sudden change meant. Stunned, Kara didn’t jump up fast enough, leaving Cat ample time to correct her mistake by shouting Kiera even louder the second time.

Still, there was a glimmer here and there. A few times Cat looked as if she was about to approach Kara’s desk, but didn’t. Once, in a lull between calls and meetings, Kara almost sought Cat out but the look she received sent Kara straight back to her desk.

On Tuesday, it didn’t matter that Cat blushed when Kara forced their hands to graze during the coffee exchange or that Kara caught Cat staring at her in a way that could almost be described as longingly through the glass several times. It had become abundantly clear that Cat was creating distance between them.

When Cat uncharacteristically left the office for lunch without so much as requesting a reservation somewhere and breezed past Kara, Kara struggled to appear impassive. Sucking on her upper lip, she adjusted her glasses and pretended that aimless clicking on a blank word document was incredibly important. Her face burned as she felt, imagined or not, everyone staring at her.

Winn leaned across the space between their desks. “Jeez, seriously, what happened?”

“Nothing,” Kara shot back. Filled with an overwhelming need for fresh air, she stood up and walked quickly towards the elevators.

* * *

While nowhere near as cold as the cabin, there was enough bite to the October air that it was surprising to find Cat sitting outside on the Catco balcony. It was almost like she was waiting, expecting to see Kara’s red cape flapping in the wind. Maybe even hoping.

Without looking up from the small book on her lap as Kara landed, Cat greeted Kara’s arrival, “You’re not about to ask me to draw you a sheep, are you?”

All the words, all of the practiced phrases and rehearsed speeches were gone in an instant. “What?”

Cat held up her book: _Le Petit Prince_. “I thought maybe you were going to ask me to draw you a sheep.”

Kara opened her mouth, but was unsure how to answer and instead chose stunned silence. Somehow the balcony had become uneven, unpredictable terrain. It had been her hope that, as Supergirl and outside of office hours, it might be different, more like the cabin. But now Kara was less sure. After all, now Cat knew for sure that Supergirl was just Kara in flame-retardant primary colors.

“I never understood why, out of everything, the Little Prince asked for a sheep.” Cat shrugged, placing the book down. And then, as if to explain, “Carter left it in the car this morning.”

“It’s a biblical reference. I think.” Her arms swung awkwardly as she shifted into Kara Danvers’ physicality. It was becoming increasingly difficult to keep the two identities separate in front of Cat. On some level, it didn’t matter. “I read it in college. My foster mother could be a bit… protective about things she thought would trigger me. Anything about lost or destroyed planets or… people who could never go home again.” Kara smiled like she had so many times before, that if by smiling alone she should push away all the pain and loss, even if only temporarily. It had always seemed strange, the books Eliza thought might be too hard for Kara and the ones that slipped past undetected. Kara held Cat’s gaze steady, hunting for a glimmer of hope. She added with a slight almost depreciating quirk of lips, “I’m practically made of steel and yet, here people treat me like glass.”

“It’s a human custom.” Cat stood up, holding her arms across her chest, at least partly for warmth. “Strength and fragility are not mutually exclusive.”

“And what is the human custom after sleeping together?” Kara asked boldly. She wanted to hold Cat in her arms, to tip her chin up just so and kiss her softly and with abandon.

“It depends. In this case,” Cat’s eyes flickered off to the side. Her arms loosened in front her chest and her hands clasped together as if she was cradling something tender between her palms before letting to drop to the ground. Then the dreaded telltale inhale, the one that announced the coming of no. “I won’t say it was a mistake. But it was… a beautiful if not misguided moment that probably should not be repeated.”

“Is this… you mean…” Kara trembled as her voice cracked. Until that moment, there had been so much hope. But now, the space where it had grown and emboldened Kara was suddenly shattered. An echoing void.

“Kara…” Cat’s tone was sad, but also almost patronizingly rehearsed. “Canada was… unexpected and special, but… It’s for the best if we keep the past where is belongs, a memory, perhaps even a cherished one, but a memory just the same. We need to be professional first.”

“Professional?” Kara’s face scrunched under further insult as it became desperately important to hold it, herself, everything together. “I thought that we were friends at least.”

“We were, in a way, but we crossed a line. The line.” Cat sounded tired. Almost irritated at having to explain what, to her, was so painfully obvious. “It will be some time, I imagine, before we redraw that line again. For now, we go back to the start: a professional relationship.”

“But I don’t want to go back to the start.” It was almost a whisper, not quite a whimper. Kara puffed her cheeks out, holding in a pained exhale. Protests like I need you and it’s not fair died on her tongue.

“Think of more like a different level on a spiral staircase then.” Cat stood up and retrieved her half-empty scotch glass from where it was perched several feet away.

“We are not like regular people, you more than me. For better or worse, we are divided, a civil war of identities with no hope of temporary cease fires for Christmas or good behavior.”Cat examined the contents of her glass for a brief second before taking a strained sip, as if even the scotch tasted hollow. “Remember when I told you that you can’t have it all, not right away? I admit I oversimplified. Part of mastering one identity is learning its boundaries, finding and accepting the points of compromise within yourself, your many selves. It’s a perpetual and savage game of rock, paper, scissor against yourself and no one wins. Each identify comes at the continual expense of the others. And you…” Cat’s eyes fell to Kara, raking across her body in a way that made Kara blush. “I admit, I’ve tried not to wonder what it feels like.” In the silence, in the pause and the slight grimace, it was made clear that Cat had attempted despite herself perhaps many time. “Cleaved, I imagine. You wear it remarkably well, I will give you that.”

Cat’s gaze returned to examined her empty glass as if it, too, might contain unknown complexities before she headed back into her office. Kara followed a safe distance behind, wanting to run but needing to see this through. Safely inside with Kara lingering in the doorway, Cat poured herself another drink and drained it immediately.

Turning around to face Kara fully, she confessed, “As a person, yes, I might have feelings for you. I can’t deny that I find you attractive. We are far past such coy subterfuge at this point.”

Kara took a small hopeful step inside. Cat sighed and poured another drink. Her face hardened with resolution.

“But as a CEO, a relationship between us, it would be a professional scandal for me and career suicide for you. You would always be that girl who slept with her high profile boss, _impure_ in the eyes of the chauvinistic idiots who somehow always end up in charge.” Cat sloshed her glass in frustration. “As someone who has some vested interest in your professional development it would be hardly safe or advisable. And as a mother, as _Adam’s_ mother…” Cat shook her head, letting the statement stand and sink in before continuing. “I cannot lose my son a third time or whatever number we’re on by now. I just got him back, in part thanks to you. I can’t have you be the reason I lose him again,” Cat’s voice trembled, as she took an unsteady sip.

Kara bit her lip, her eyes falling the ground. “I… you know I can’t stand in the way of a mother’s relationship with a child.”

Cat deflated, her shoulders sinking slightly before she taking a longer, steadier swallow of her drink. It was almost like she had wanted, had needed for Kara fight back. “So, that’s it, you understand.”

“So… that’s it.” Kara swallowed bitterly, not quite accepting that this really was it. “And maybe, someday if I’m lucky, you’ll start to acknowledge me in the office again?”

“Acknowledge you?” Cat smiled darkly, turning around to once again face Kara.

“You know what I mean.” Kara struggled to hold her face together and fail. It wasn’t often that tears formed while dressed as Supergirl. “There are… cracks, I admit, between… all that I am. The fact that you see them…” Kara bit her lip, steadying her face somewhat. “Most people don’t see. They don’t understand. But you know just the right words that help me find the strength within myself to be strong. You help me be the better person, you help me be who National City needs. Who I need myself to be. I can’t lose you.”

“Oh Kara, you have that strength in spades. And it’s not my role, it’s not my place to make you strong. And you’re not losing me. We’re just… creating a respectable distance.”

“I’m not talking about lifting humvees over my head.” Kara closed her eyes in frustration.

“Neither am I. You are an inspiration. So much loss, so much pain… and yet,” Cat swirled her drink, looking into it ruefully before finding and holding Kara’s eyes. She took a small step towards Kara, as if she wanted to close the gap complete, to reach out. “It has only made you kind. I don’t know how you do it, how you smile every day. It’s what makes you a hero. All you’ve survived, this strength of yours, make no mistake, it has nothing to do with me.” The whispered reverence in Cat’s voice fell away to the hard line redrawn across her face. “You will survive the small blip in your life that is me, easily. I assure you.” She waved her hand in a flippant dismal before a large swallow of her drink.

* * *

“That’s it, I’m calling it.” Alex announced, her ragged breath finally under control.

The not-so faint scent of sweat permeated the practice room. Kara lingered on the training mat, rolling her head just enough to watch her sister walk over to the controls to dim the overpowering green glow. As the Kryptonite levels were lowered and then turned off entirely, Kara savored return of her powers. It almost tingled, as if blood was gently returning to her numb limbs. The sensation reminded her of the cabin and suddenly it felt like her sister’s right hook catching her off guard.

“Not that I haven’t been enjoying the increased frequency of our sparring sessions this week, but what’s going on, Kara?” Alex leaned up against the wall.

Kara frowned, the telltale crinkle quickly pushed away with an overly forced smile. “Nothing! Just wanted to brush up on the basics is all. Why would there be anything wrong?”

It had been days since she spoke to Cat on the balcony. Days of excruciatingly awkward interactions at work. Evenings spent praying for some National City disaster to distract her from anxiously replaying each and every interaction or lack thereof. The growing weirdness had taken root to such a noticeable degree that it felt like all of CatCo knew something was wrong. How could they not? After disappearing together without a word for almost a week, they had returned strained, awkward, and distant. For the first time in CatCo history, Cat seemed almost skittish around an assistant. Kelly had asked Kara twice already about what was going on with Cat, nothing to mention the barrage of inquiries from Winn and James. The boys had tried plying her with donuts, cinnamon buns, potstickers, and pizza to no avail. The most she said was that, while away, she and Cat had seen a bit too much of each other and needed space. Even during last night’s game night, she failed to score easy points for her team, missed her friends’ jokes and large portion of their stories. This distracted and withdrawn Kara, prone to staring out windows in CatCo’s direction, was becoming the alarmingly new normal.

“Astronauts can spot your crinkle from space.” Alex rejoined her sister on the mat, adding in a more serious tone, “It’s not like you to try to punch your ways through things, not at first at least.”

“I know,” Kara groaned as she sat up across from Alex, punching the mat for good measure.

“Is this a Cat Crinkle?”

“No. No Cat Crinkle,” Kara interjected quickly before relenting under her sister’s scrutiny. “Maybe.”

“Is that maybe spelled y-e-s?”

“She won’t talk to me, Alex, like at all. Ever since we got back, she’s been avoiding me, which is impressively hard to do when I’m her assistant. And yet, somehow…” Kara threw up her arms. “I’ve never received so many emails from someone sitting very visibly several feet away.”

“You know, she might have her reasons.”

Kara glared.

“She’s your boss.” Alex began ticking off her fingers. “She’s older than you.”

“Technically older. If you add the time I was in the Phantom Zone, we’re practically the same age,” Kara shot back.

“Time is essentially frozen there. You didn’t age.” Alex returned to ticking off her fingers. “You’re Supergirl, which doesn’t come without its risks and dangers. Also, you dated her estranged son, Adam. That’s got to be a little weird.” She waved her four fingers in the air at her sister. “Four perfectly reasonable explanations as to why she might be avoiding you.”

“It was like one and a half dates,” Kara scoffed.

It was Alex’s turn to glare.

“I know. I know. It’s just…” Kara conceded.

“You really like her,” Alex filled in the blank, a tug of smile at the corner of her lips.

“I really, really do. And I know she likes me back. I don’t get it.”

Alex reached her arm out and pulled Kara close into a hug. “I know, Kara.”

“Well, I don’t know,” Kara’s protest was muffled by Alex’s shoulder as she allowed herself a brief moment to melt into her sister. Shifting slightly so she could speak more clearly, “I really don’t. Like, we used to be friends, sort of, and we were getting closer.”

“Clearly. You slept together.”

Kara glared letting her shoulders droop before pulling out of her sister’s hold entirely so she could look Alex squarely in the face. “I don’t want to lose her, Alex.”

Alex opened her mouth as if a fountain of older sisterly wisdom was about to spring forth before closing it with a shrug.

Kara flopped back down. Her sister lay down next to her.

“Do you think it’s the gay thing?” Alex stared up at the ceiling.

“I don’t think it’s the gay thing.” Kara turned her head to face her sister with an exaggerated eye roll. “She dated Lois Lane, apparently.”

“It’s a small world after all,” Alex whistled before turning to face her sister, her voice quieter. “Do you think everyone is a little gay?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you, Cat, Lois…. Other people. Everyone.” Alex’s face was strangely more flushed than before.

“I don’t know. Maybe.” Kara scrunched up her nose with a grin. “Is Winn a little gay?”

Catching each other’s eyes, the two giggled.

“Well, he does get all dreamy whenever someone mentions your cousin.”

Kara turned her head to look at her sister, her voice suddenly more curious and serious, almost shy. “Are you a little gay too?”

Alex scoffed, blustered, the flush returning and deepening on her face. “I, um… well. It’s just…” Recovering, Alex tilted her head and pursed it lips. It looked almost as if she trying to hold back something not quite fully formed or ready for the world. “What I mean is maybe the circle is a bit too incestuous for Cat. She dated your cousin’s girlfriend, you dated her son.” She flashed her open palm to Kara to further illustrate her point. “That’s between five to six areas of concern right there. She’s a CEO of a multinational corporation. She’s bound to have run a thorough risk analysis.”

Kara groaned again. “So what do I do? Do I accept everything and try to move on or do I, I don’t know, try? Despite my deep love for the romcom genre, I do really think that, after a certain point, you need consent to, I don’t know, keep wooing.”

“Wooing?” Alex arched her eyebrow up playful.

“I’m serious, Alex,” Kara groaned.

“Well does she know that you’re serious, that it wasn’t just some… I don’t know, fling in a cabin or that you’re not, you know, having a big gay panic about having slept with your boss?”

Kara glared. “I’m not having some kind of gay panic.”

“But it’d be okay, you know, if you did.” Alex swallowed. “It is kind of a big deal, isn’t it?”

“I guess. I don’t know.” Kara paused for a second, as if never having considered it before. “Is it?”

“It could be,” Alex replied, almost as a mumble, before looking her sister squarely in the face. “Well, does she know… I don’t know, where you stand?”

“She knows. I mean, she should know. I told her, or at least tried to. She wouldn’t really listen.”

* * *

The colors of the sunset collapsed into themselves leaving behind a deep blue-grey debris that eventually settled into the absolute darkness of the evening. Returning from the DEO, Kara had flown through the entire transformation. Hours since leaving her sister behind at the base, Kara continued to hover aimlessly above the National City skyline. There was an unspoken gravitas to the rhythm of the city lights turning on, a psalm to how the headlights zipped and blurred amongst the large, flickering neon lights below.

When her mind wandered too far or not far enough, Kara would pick up speed, zig and then zag across the sky in an aimless imitation of the drills that J’onn often ran her through. Still, she always found herself hovering just above CatCo Tower. Not even knowing if Cat was there, she wanted, needed to be close. It would take only a second to locate her heartbeat if Kara allowed herself that small, bittersweet comfort.

Before the cabin, even when their relationship was strained, Kara could always visit as Supergirl. Even if Cat surely knew the truth all along, she would somehow would suspend her belief and let Supergirl in. But now, even that door was closed.

* * *

Cat picked up her cellphone with a bored curiosity. Reading the name on the Caller ID, she continued to let it ring until just after the fifth peal.

“Has anyone ever warned you about listening to Adele?” Cat answered. “After the first chorus, one is prone to become sentimental enough to start calling their exes.”

“Hello from the other side, Cat,” Lois’s voice smirked all the way from Metropolis. “Or should I be calling you cougar now?”

“You always stumble so close to being witty, Lois, I forgot how disappointingly flat conversations with you can be.” Cat frowned, absentmindedly twirling the extra pair of glasses in her hand, pretending like her heart didn’t stop.

Lois sighed. “You were the one who asked me to call, remember? You mentioned a mistake in your text. Knowing you, Cat, it had to be a romantically inclined mistake because heaven forbid you’d ever make a business mistake you’d let me know about and remember, you don’t do older. We’ve both laughed about Harrison Ford. You can hardly blame me then. It’d be a linguistic travesty if I missed this opportunity on your name.”

“Texting you _days ago_ was a moment of weakness,” Cat confessed with annoyance. “A moment that was perhaps aided by one too many martinis.”

“I’ve been busy. So what have you done now?” There was almost a hint of concern underneath the unmistakable curiosity.

“All these years, I never realized you had an interest in the gossip column, Lois.” It was a practiced talent, keeping her voice calm and measured while keeping people at an arm’s lengths.

“You said you wanted to talk and we’re… almost friends.” A sigh. “All off the record, as always. I promise.”

Cat laughed bitterly. “God… The fact that I even reached out is laughable.”

“Well, you did, no denying it when there’s a clear record of it. So let’s figure it out together. And let’s not pretend, like last time, that this is a reference check on Jimmy.”

“James. And it was.”

“Do you always run reference checks drunk, Cat?” When Cat didn’t respond right away, Lois continued. “So, what is it, Cat? Do you really want me to pry it out of you?”

The silence was stubborn and far too long.

Finally, Cat exhaled. “I believe you know my assistant, Kara Danvers. Blonde, made entirely of sunshine, puppies, steel, and stardust, probably has some dorky secret handshake with her cousin Clark.” A pause. “And I’m not talking about the Kansas side of his family.”

Then it was Lois’ turn to be silent.

“How much do you think you know?” Lois’ voice was entirely changed, lower and dangerous. Gone was the playfulness and warm concern from before.

“Enough.” There was no sense of victory or gloating to Cat’s voice. Only exhaustion. “Mostly from Kara, though she only confirmed what I already knew.”

“How? Why? You’re her boss.”

“Probably the same way you figured it out with Clark.”

“What do you…” And then Lois caught on. “Oh Cat, why do you always feel like you have to one up me?”

“Did it ever occur to you that I’m naturally just better than you? And that maybe this isn’t about you?” Cat leaned back in her chair, pinching her nose.

“Kara’s special, Cat.” Spoken as if Cat didn’t know, as if Cat hadn’t been perfectly aware of this fact since the beginning.

“I know that, probably more than you do.” In attempt to hide her exhaustion, her pain, Cat added somewhat jokingly, “Is this the part were you ask my intentions and threaten me with a proverbial shotgun?”

“I’ve known her since she was a kid, Kitty. Of course I’m going to at least-…”

“Only you, my mother, and my murder-bent ex-employee call me that. Consider the company you’re keeping, Lesser Lane,” Cat growled. “Besides, I hardly think the duty of threatening with a shotgun falls on you. There isn’t a shortage of people in front of you in line who would give me the exact same speech only better.”

“Fine. But, our history aside, we should talk. There are certain things that only I know.”

“Knowledge that would be better served for whoever actually dates Kara.” Cat sat up straight, dropping the spare pair of glasses she had been gripping like a protective talisman with finality. “Let’s not delude ourselves here. I have an empire, not people, as you so fondly like to remind me. As much as it pains me to admit that you might be right, no one is calling Kara to threaten her wellbeing on my behalf. I might not have people, not like you or Clark or even Kara, but I do have my sons. There is nothing… it would be utterly ridiculous and positively Greek considering my son dated her albeit briefly.” Loathing and self-judgement trembled deep within her voice. “I can’t go forward with this. I have too much on the line, everything at stake for someone so young, so fresh in this world.”

“Cat…” The words hung in the space between Metropolis and National City. Whatever Lois wanted to say, Cat didn’t want to hear. But Lois continued on anyway. “What if it’s worth it?”

“I know you’re prone to overwrought emotional hyperbole and romantic sentiments, but this isn’t some romance novel, Lois.” Confessing almost more to herself and probably barely audible to the other side of the call, “I’m the one who is going to get hurt when Kara realizes she could do so much better and trust me, I probably won’t have long to wait.” And then, before Lois could reply, because it was easier, Cat continued in an entirely harder tone of voice, “If anything of this makes it to Kara’s ears, I’ll know who to blame, Lois. Don’t forget I know a few skeletons in your closet that you’d rather not have exposed. I’d prefer to keep this conversation between us just as I’m sure you prefer to keep those things private. Have I made myself clear?

“You never change, Cat.”

“I’m sure there is some feline-inspired platitude you’d love to quote, but another time.”

On an iPhone, gone was the satisfaction of slamming down the receiver. Underneath her breath, Cat berated herself for contacting Lois in a moment of weakness. For looking for some kind of support when she should have known she would get none. Of course Lois wouldn’t understand her reasons for keeping Kara at a distance. As much as the two woman could relate to each other, there was always a fundamental distance, a schism between the two that doomed them from the start. It was why she hadn’t fought when Lois ended their affair.

In the silence, her mind slipped back into its familiar, self-deprecating, violent melody, hummed so often that her own internal monologue practically sang in her mother’s voice. She dropped her phone onto her desk next to her glasses with a note of dissatisfaction before spinning her chair around to look at the sky, hoping to lose herself in the city’s pale imitation of starlight.

Clearly silhouetted against the skyline was the familiar caped figure leaning forlornly against the edge of her office balcony. Cat’s heart jumped, quickening at the sight. She sucked in air, trying to compose herself with a lick of lips. As if pulled by a string, Cat stood up to join Kara on the balcony.

“Spying on me now?” Cat asked after opening the door, her accusation cut by the twinkle in her tone.

Kara whipped around. Her eyes, her face shifted to an unreadable expression before a strange kind of peace washed over the younger woman. She nodded, either as a confirmation or as a greeting, before turning away to gaze back out at the city. Seeking a more conclusive answer, Cat joined her side, standing perhaps a bit too close, their shoulders nearly, almost touching. The night breeze traced Kara’s cape across the back of Cat’s bare calves.

“I didn’t realize you would still be in the office.” Kara offered guiltily. “It’s past midnight.”

“How much did you hear?” Cat’s second inquiry was more serious than the first and yet, somehow warmer.

Kara looked down at her hands and then back up at the city displayed out before them.

“Do I scare you?” Kara’s question was more an observation, an epiphany. The underlining hurt was unmistakable.

Cat Grant, CEO of CatCo and Queen of All Media, wasn’t scared of anything. She was fearless and bold, the most powerful person in National City. Like Lois, she had made her name from a relentless, sometimes ruthless, search for the truth. However, Cat Grant, mother and person, was scared beyond reason of being hurt, of rejection, of not being enough or being too much of the wrong thing for her sons. Of losing Kara partly or entirely. None of this she said out loud.

Kara was silent, studying Cat, the hurt disappearing into understanding. The sort of understanding Cat had never managed to find with Lois. Then Kara gently covered Cat’s hand with her own, confessing, “You scare me too. In a good way, I think.”

Cat tried to hold back the tightening of her lips. Yet, she spread her fingers out and like so, their fingers interlocked. Kara curled her fingers around Cat’s.

Neither woman looked at each other or spoke for a very long time.

* * *

There can be a lot of truth in moments of silence, but only because there is the potential for anything in silence. It is the absence and presence of everything. Everything that needs to be said, everything that shouldn’t or can’t be uttered, whole conversations turned translucent and pale. Silence is a blank space to be filled in at the other person’s discretion, with their hopes and fears, their biases and assumptions. Wordless understandings are often unspoken misunderstandings. Intentions become trapped in a void between the lies we tell ourselves and the lies others believe we are telling them.

In the silence of the CatCo balcony, Kara didn’t trust herself to interpret, to translate all that was left unsaid between herself and Cat. And yet hope was already growing out of the Krypton-sized hole in her heart, boldly taking hold. In that moment, there were many things she hoped she knew.

1\. If Cat said no, if Cat pushed her away again then Kara would accept it and be able to keep it professional.

2\. It was okay to be scared, to be anxious, because she was scared and anxious for the right reasons.

3\. That everything that she was putting on the line was worth it.

4\. That if this ended badly she was strong enough to survive it and move on.

5\. Kara knew what she was doing.


	6. Chapter 6

“You scare me too. In a good way, I think.”

Kara’s confession was met with the tightening of Cat’s lips, an almost smile. Her fingers spread out across the balcony, further betraying what Cat so clearly wanted to hide.

Kara braved the small distance between them to rest her hand on top of Cat’s. When Cat didn’t immediately pull away or stiffen at the touch, Kara slipped her fingers in between Cat’s. It was the most contact they shared since returning to National City. As if to not dispel the moment, both women silently stared out across the city, witnessing a similar but divergent skyline, pretending not to enoy the warmth of the other’s hand.

At this hour, more lights flickered off than on. In the building across the street, a janitor could be seen cleaning the floors, disappearing in a steady rhythm as he moved from window to window. Kara focused on the way the breeze whispered against her skin and, not for the first time, wondered not at the weight and texture of the wind, but of the colors and hues of it. When the breeze died down, she had only a mind for Cat’s hand, and how, after all this time, it had remained underneath her own.

They stood so close that Kara’s skin ached. Their arms were practically touching and yet somehow, despite being close enough to intimately compare all the ways the crooks of their elbows matched and differed, miles away.The longer their fingers remained intertwined, the more Kara gathered up her broken hopes and with it the soft pitter patter of what if, what if, what if.

When being left alone to her thoughts became all too much, too vast, too pale, too untranslatable and bulky, Kara turned to look at Cat and was surprised to find that Cat was already looking at her, smiling softly. If Kara was only brave enough, she was sure that Cat would kiss back. But she wasn’t sure what would happen the moment after — if Cat would deepen this kiss or pull away farther than before. Kara buzzed with what if she, what if I, what if now….

“It’s late, can I take you home?” The words stumbled unexpectedly out of Kara’s mouth. Upon hearing them, Kara almost recoiled in anticipation, quickly trying to recover. “Not like that, I… not that I…it’s late.”

“Is this what you Kryptonians define as late?” Cat quirked her eyebrow, challenging and then softening. “As long as there are no detours through rain storms or across international borders. I have things to do tomorrow that don’t include defending my Canadian Scrabble title.”

Kara had a retort, she really did. It might not have been witty, but it was hers and she had meant to say it. But it disappeared as Cat withdrew her hand from underneath Kara’s only expertly place her arms around Kara’s neck. Instead of replying, Kara swallowed and tried centering herself behind a shy smile. How easy it would be then in that moment. What if, what now, what then. But she could so clearly picture the sad smile that might follow, that definitive head tilt of no that would herald a deepening chasm.

Kara lifted Cat up into her arms, nodding to the sky and finally found her voice as they rose into the sky. “Up, up, and away.”

It was a short flight between CatCo and Cat’s balcony, both women left alone to her thoughts. Kara allowed herself to believe, even temporarily, that Cat wasn’t nestling into her solely because of the brisk night air. Kara’s mind raced through every one of Cat’s objections, alternating between arguing against and agreeing with them.

Only after they landed and their limbs long disentangled, as Cat reached the balcony’s door, did Kara call out in desperation, “What if I resigned?”

Cat turned around ever so slowly to face Kara, her expression one of pained disappointment.

“Are you unhappy at your job?” Cat inquired, the slow deliberate edge of her words urged Kara to think carefully before answering.

“No, I love my job.” Or, at least, Kara used to. How desperately she wanted to be able to love it again.

“Do you feel uncomfortable, unsafe, taken advantage of, or otherwise exploited beyond the normal threshold of capitalism? Is CatCo a toxic professional environment for you?”

“Of course not,” Kara scoffed with a scrunch of her nose.

“Does CatCo lack appropriate opportunities for professional growth and development?” Cat continued to press, her tone never wavering.

“No, you know that’s not true at all. I’ve learned so much, I continue to—…”

“So you’re not bored or wallowing in the lack of invigorating challenges?” Disappointment dripped from every word feeding what seemed to be a quickly growing anger. “Do you find your work to be trivial, a waste of your time or abilities?”

“No, Cat. No, I don’t. It allows me to be Kara, to be human.”

“Did you receive a better job offer elsewhere? More money, prestige, better hours, or with new, more interesting challenges? A new or better way to be human?” As she paused, Cat’s cold tone softened slightly. “Are you considering retiring to become Supergirl full time?”

Kara’s brow crinkled, almost offended at how Cat seemed to so deliberately be missing the point. “No. That’s not it at all.”

Cat exhaled slowly, as if trying to gather both her wits and her patience but ultimately failing. “Then, why, Kara? What spurred this seemingly pointless thought exercise at almost one in the morning? You’re hardly this stupid or insipid usually.”

“You know why.” Kara pressed. “I just…”

Cat’s glare cut off any further protest.

When Cat spoke, her words were slow and deliberate, each one punctuated in frustration. “As I listed all the acceptable reasons to leave your job, I clearly do not know why. Kara, I have too much respect for your ambition, talent, and intelligence to accept this ridiculous proposition that you might even be considering compromising…” Cat closed her eyes before exhaling, centering herself to return to some approximation of the friendly if snappish voice of wisdom. It echoed those cherished moments before Canada, before Adam, before it all started to become too complicated for Cat to let her in. “There is no person, no matter how impressive, worth losing your career over. Ever. Not even me, do you understand?”

Kara bit her lip, feeling every bit the embarrassed child. “I’m an assistant, it’s not a career. I get coffee.”

“You and both know you do more than that,” Cat scolded.

“Cat, please.”

“Kara, do you understand me?” Cat repeated. “Being my assistant, it’s not a career, not yet maybe, especially not with what I pay you, but it’s a step. An important step if you use it right. We all have to start somewhere and you don’t get anywhere if you quit at the slightest sign of heartbreak. Perry never once considered leaving the _Daily Planet_ for Alice and you certainly will not leave CatCo over…” Cat waved the end of the sentence away. “You have sworn to me repeatedly up and down National City about the importance of CatCo to you. Has this somehow evaporated?” Cat examined Kara, disappointment settling in further across her features. “No, I thought not. I will not be the reason you find yourself staring out into the existential abyss after you lose your sense of self, your confidence, and your mind all for some romantic notion of the bloated importance of so-called grand gestures. I have no need for a trophy wife and, while it may be a rewarding path for some, I doubt that you traveled across the stars to play such an ill-fitting role. I expect more from you, Kara Zor-El, so much more.”

“That’s not what I’m saying at all,” Kara protested, her shoulders deflating even as she fought back. In that moment, all she wanted was to be Cat’s equal. “But I… I can’t be your assistant. Not now. Not after everything. There are only so many lies I can keep and getting your coffee while pretending like I’m falling for you more and more each day isn’t one I can keep successfully.”

“You…” For a second, Cat seemed taken aback, almost vulnerable. For a second. Before the familiar walls rose, before the stylish armor and the accessories to match came back.

“I care about you Cat, so much.” Kara pressed, taking a step forward. “And I, I think you care about me too.”

“That… that has occurred to me,” Cat conceded after a slow exhale, her words sounding almost rote, rehearsed. “A transfer might temporarily solve the immediate problem of our working relationship. I’d be remiss if I didn’t admit that you’ve deserved a promotion for some time. As my longest lasting assistant by a mile, there is some natural favoritism to be expected.”

“I tell you that I am falling in love with you and you, your solution is that… you’re going to transfer me to some faraway department where I’m out of sight and out of mind?” Kara’s confusion only partially obscured her rising frustration. “So we can better play professional while we wait for all of this to magically go away? I don’t, I don’t think that this is how feelings works, Cat, on any planet.”

Cat scoffed bitterly. “Out of sight, yes. Out of mind, unlikely.” Then, as if to cover up her confession, she quickly added, “My professionalism is never a pretense, and neither should yours.”

“If I accept the transfer, then does that mean…?” Kara allowed herself the smallest of hope.

Cat only averted eye contact. “There is still Adam. And Carter. And the slight issue of our age difference even if I stop being your boss.”

Kara opened her mouth to protest, but found no words, no argument against a mother’s loyalty to her children.

Cat filled in the silence. “Take the weekend, mull it over, run it by your sister and Agent Mulder if you must, and let me know by noon on Monday what you decide.”

“Decide?” It was all too fast, the world was spinning beneath her feet. What choice did Kara actually have in the matter?

“Your top three choices for your transfer. Being the most powerful woman in National City does have some advantages, after all. I have some sway in my own company when I finally give my assistant a long-deserved promotion. Take this seriously, Kara. This is a big step for you, one you fully deserve. This,” Cat gestured with her hands as if she was pushing more space between the two of them, “is the right decision, Kara. You’ll realize it someday. I hope. ”

* * *

 

A cold, bitter wind blew through Monday. People curled their shoulders in for warmth and pulled their jackets close From where she sat on the CatCo roof, feet dangling off the edge and impervious to the chill, Kara observed the crowd scurry to and fro on the streets below. It was a familiar view, but for once, it didn’t inspire her to imagine what their lives were like. She didn’t conjure up coffee dates, forgotten lunches replaced by fast food, or errands run on lunch hours.

Having managed to escape both Winn and James once again, Kara sat alone next to her mostly untouched lunch. The number was already dialed on her phone, her finger hovered over the call button, and hesitated. Again. With a sense of dejection, she put her phone down, deciding against the phone call for the third time. Then with an inhale large enough to draw courage from the clouds, she picked the phone back up, and before she could delay the inevitable a fourth time, she pressed call and brought the phone nervously to her ear.

“Kara?” Clark picked up after four rings with clear surprise. Wherever he was, it was loud and bustling, a stark contrast to where she hid from the world.

“Clark, hi!” Kara chirped, trying to sound her normal, bubbly happy self. Only then did she do the math. Clark must have only just gotten in to the Daily Planet. “Is now a good time?”

“Yeah, of course, absolutely. Just give me a second.” Then it all became muffled as he excused himself from the crowded and noisy bullpen. Within seconds, gone was the muddled din of the Daily Planet and in its place a quiet almost-nothingness surrounded her cousin’s voice. “What’s up?”

“Do you… I mean, would you…” Kara tripped over her words, stumbling past what she wanted to ask and instead landed on a different conversation entirely. “I’m up for a promotion at CatCo.”

“Congratulations Kara! That’s great news. It’s about time.” Her cousin’s happiness almost infectious. It made the promotion almost feel real, like it was an uncomplicated good thing happening in her life. “From what I can tell, you’ve earned it.”

“Thanks. Yeah… yeah, it’s great. I just need to figure out what my next step is.” Kara scratched her nose, hiding a telltale crinkle. “Cat’s sort of left it open ended and wants me to decide. I ran an idea by her this morning but apparently I’m not taking it seriously.”

“That doesn’t sound like you. What’d you suggest?”

“Marketing?” Kara scrunched up her face in embarrassment. “I took this online aptitude test and then there is this opening in digital customer acquisition… it seemed to fit. Maybe.”

Clark started laughing. “Marketing? You?”

“Yeah, I guess it isn’t…” It had made more sense at two in the morning. Even if she did somehow have the skills within her to excel at digital customer acquisition, whatever that actually was, it seemed unlikely it would ever be something she could be passionate about. But did she need to have passion as Kara Danvers if she was also Supergirl Wouldn’t it just complicate everything even more? Cat’s comments from the morning swirled in her mind, seeming to take stronger and stronger hold. “I know it’s silly but… what if, I don’t know, I became a reporter. Like you?”

“I think you’d be great at it, Kara.” Clark’s voice was warm and encouraging, familiar in a way that almost felt like what Kara had learned family to be.

“You don’t think it’s weird, me copying you again, not forging my own path…?”

“Well, are you copying me or do really want to be a reporter?”

Kara paused, her face working through several thoughts unseen to Clark. She longed to pull apart all the influences, the voices of other people inside her head and know, truly know if it made sense. Not because her cousin. Not because Cat declared that it was the only option that made sense and one that she had apparently divined during their first meeting, waving Kara’s paltry resume around as if it was proof.

“I don’t know. I mean, it wasn’t what I wanted to be when I was a kid.” Kara laughed self consciously. “We didn’t exactly have journalists back home.”

“Kara that doesn’t mean you can’t strike out a different path here.” He countered warily, as if already recognizing the dangerous territory they were treading on.

“No one knew on Krypton, Clark. No one knew. I don’t… I don’t think that was right, how the council hid the truth from everyone. And I feel this weight… all the time.” Kara bit her lip. She didn’t need Clark’s age-old admonishment of survivor’s guilt. “Maybe I could help people here, and not just burning buildings and fist fights with Fort Rozz escapes, but… as Kara Danvers, human reporter.” Kara swallowed. “That sounds so silly, doesn’t it?”

“It doesn’t sound silly at all. If Cat’s not careful, I might have the Daily Planet poach you someday.” Clark paused. “Do you have any questions about the job, what to expect, the ins and outs? I’ve got some time before-…”

“I have so many questions you have no idea.” Kara interrupted with a nervous laugh. “And me asking you those questions sounds great and we should definitely do that some time. Some other time soon. Very soon. This, me maybe probably becoming a reporter, that’s not actually why I called. I have an, um… even stranger question for you. Are you sure now is a good time? I can call back later, like tonight or…”

“Kara, it’s fine. Really. Ask away. I’m just glad you called.”

Left unspoken was that she never called. Texted, yes, occasionally. Called, no. It was more common for his calls to go to voicemail before she’d text back. She rarely, if ever, started the conversation.

“I know, it’s just…” Usually Kara went to the Danvers. Or, recently even to the DEO, Winn, and James. But this wasn’t something they could answer. “How does…” Kara bit her lip as the entire conversation she had rehearsed dissipated from her mind. Gone were the smooth transitions, the carefully considered wording, the jokes meant to lighten the issue. Only a few unhelpful remnants lingered in her mind. “How does it work, with you and Lois? I mean… with, like, _you know_ …”

Kara nearly dropping her phone off the building as her body curled inward to fight off the onslaught of embarrassment. When Clark didn’t speak right away, she prayed, she hoped they had got disconnected. That oerhaps a cell tower blew up or there was a satellite falling to earth that her cousin had just jetted off faster than a speeding bullet to catch and save her from this conversation.

“Kara, are you asking if and how Lois and I have sex?” It sounded almost like Clark was smiling on the other end.

“You know, you’re right. Never mind. Forget I even asked,” Kara squeezed her eyes shut, entirely mortified. “I don’t know what came over me. It’s private. It’s your personal life and I absolutely do not want any details because… _gross_. I should have never… I should, I should actually go…”

“I sort of wondered when this conversation would come back up.” Clark was most definitely smiling.

“Clearly I hit my head harder than I thought at some point because I completely forgot what an absolute disaster it was the last time we had the Kryptonian and the bees conversation.” Kara groaned, berating herself for actually being the one to bring it up this time. “Please. Forget I even asked. We can just… move on. Let’s go back to discussing career choices or even just hang up. Don’t you have a morning meeting?”

“Come on, it wasn’t that bad.” He was now clearly laughing.

“I was 13. It is still one of the most traumatizing things that happened since I landed.” Kara shot back. “I had just learned how to high five safely and here you were, explaining the mechanics of biological reproduction, going into intimate detail on the similarities and differences of human and Kryptonian reproductive systems. And I do mean _intimate_ , Kal.”

“Those were Eliza’s diagrams, not mine,” he protested, still chuckling.

“All I know was one moment I was innocently asking about the human codex and the next minute Eliza was having you fly out and….”

“See, this is the good thing about catching me off guard, I don’t have time to check if Eliza kept those diagrams. Unless you want to talk tonight. I could swing by Midvale and check.” And then softer, more sincerely, he added, “I’m glad you called. Really, I am. What do you want to know?”

Kara bit her lip. “This is… hard for me.”

“That’s ok, take your time. It’s not an easy conversation for anyone.”

“I mean, I should have been… it should have be you calling me with the embarrassing stuff—…”

“Kara,” Clark interjected in a firm tone. The same one, Kara imagined, that he used to admonish criminals.

Kara could feel them nearing the familiar beginning of the same conversation they had circled through countless times in countless ways before. Even when they talked about something else, it was always playing in the background, muffling other, easier, lighter topics. Clark’s fear of not being Kryptonian enough, Kara never being able to bring herself to ask her cousin why, when the tables were turned, he abandoned her to the Danvers and faded out from her life. It had gone unspoken for so long, the tension, the unknowing and the fear that went along with it. Kara was never brave enough to ask and Clark was never strong enough to tell her why he made the decision he did. But she felt the pull of it now, tempting her to jump in headlong if only to distract, to avoid from the real conversation at hand.

“Let’s just pretend we are your typical, average Kryptonian-American family and start this conversation over, shall we?” Clark paused, and when he started speaking again, it was warmer, happier, like Kara had needed him to sound when he first picked up the phone. “Kara, hello! I’m so glad you called. What’s up?”

“I…” Kara could feel the ghost of the words she had planned on saying slip away along with the need to drag up old ghosts. She missed the old school earth phones, the ones with cords she could twist and fidget with. Her free hand gravitated to her mother’s necklace. The familiar weight moving across her fingertips was always calming, but never as soothing as she hoped.

To prompt further, he added, “Lois mentioned that there might be someone in your life.”

“Lois?” Kara’s fingers froze, the pendant slipped from her grasp. The bits and pieces of the overheard conversation between Cat and Lois came back to Kara. How much of that did Lois divulge to Clark? “What did she say?”

“Not much. I guess you came up last time she talked with Cat.” Kara could almost hear her cousin rolling his eyes. “You know, those two confound me. You have no idea all the history between those two and yet… So, who is he, Kara? It’s not Jimmy, is it?”

Kara coughed. She wondered how much Clark really knew about Cat and Lois. He was, after all, probably around for a lot of their history while Kara really only knew the cliff notes that Cat had divulged at the cabin. She felt a small wave of gratitude for Lois’ discretion, the subject of who and Kara’s apparent indiscriminate gender preference wasn’t exactly the conversation she wanted to have with her cousin. Not yet, at least. Someday, maybe, she’d withstand another awkward conversation to see if it was the same for him. To find out if it was more of a Kryptonian thing or maybe just a Kara Zor-El thing.

Instead she settled on “No, definitely not James,” and then, “It’s… complicated.”

“The whole secret identity thing?”

“The whole… The whole everything, really. I’m not so much the secret identity at the moment, but more the, ah…” Kara rubbed the back of her neck, the awkwardness intensifying by the second. “The _other_ thing.”

“You want to know how to be with someone and not unintentionally hurt him.”

“Well, more like…” Kara shook her head as the momentary courage receded. “This person, it’s not going to happen. And that’s fine, I think. There are just too many other factors. But, I realized that… I’d like to know for next time.” She exhaled, conceding at last. “So yeah, I guess I finally am ready for the Kryptonian and the Bees talk.”

* * *

 

It had been weeks since her overly awkward, embarrassing, and, in the end, somewhat informative conversation with her cousin. Weeks spent dodging all his attempts at following up— with a bank robbery here, a havoc-inducing Fort Rozz escapee there, a deadline always in sight, and a much needed Netflix binge with Alex always on the horizon, it was surprisingly easy.

And so time passed. Even with National City’s limited definition of seasons, it could no longer be considered fall. Winter, in its mild, barely noticeable West Coast definition, had descended upon the city heralded with Christmas decorations sprinkled with a few token nods to the other religious holidays. Already the annual protests of “it’s too soon for Christmas songs” were drowned out by the blaring soundtrack that followed one everywhere, in and out of shops, cafes, bars, and restaurants imploring listeners to be merry and bright. With Vasquez humming carols under her breath, even the halls of the DEO weren’t safe from the festive cheer that Kara didn’t quite feel a part of. At least Cat Grant had banned holiday music from the bullpen.

With an altogether glazed over expression, Kara lightly drummed her mechanical pencil against her desk to the great unspoken annoyance of all those around her. Kara snapped back to full alert when, in her distraction, she tapped a little too vigorously and broke the pencil, sending the small eraser flying across the office to land unnoticed somewhere on the other side of the bullpen. Sheepishly, Kara scanned the room but, unlike her, the rest of office was either too busy or better at pretending to notice yet another office supply fall victim to Kara.

She guiltily tossed the remnants of her pencil into the trash bin with a sigh, immediately seeking and failing to find something else to occupy her hands with. All that remained on her desk were the bare boned essentials, the company-issued remnants that would stay behind when Kara left at the end of the day. She had already taken home or given away everything that had once made her desk hers. All she had left was the nagging sensation that she was overstaying her welcome.

With nothing left, she tapped her fingers against her desk, not for the first time wondering what maintenance and IT collectively thought of her tenure at CatCo spent quietly amassing broken objects. The pens, pencils, and staplers likely went unnoticed. Harder to miss were the computer mouses, headsets, and keyboards that she replaced with far more regularity than any of her coworkers. Had it all been attributed to the stress of working directly under Cat Grant? How believable were her laughing confessions of ill-fated clumsiness? After Canada, a new fear had burrowed deep within her: what if, like her perfume, these too, in time, would give her away? Would chronically destroyed office equipment be the next undoing of her secret?

A strange sentimentality for the bright yellow mechanical pencil mingled with the more familiar anxiety surrounding her identity. The pencil was the last office supply she’d break as Cat’s assistant. In ten minutes, HR would be shutting off any and all of her access to Cat’s emails, calendars, everything. On Monday morning, she would walk into a different building, get a new access badge, report to a different desk, and break the Tribune’s office supplies instead.

She should be excited about starting her career as a journalist. And she was. She was also already missing Cat so much her stomach hurt.

Her replacement, a perfectly qualified woman named Heather, had started two weeks ago and yet, still Kara remained. Officially, it was to train Heather and to ensure that no unnecessary or unsightly hiccups occurred during the transition. Faced with the inevitability of their decision, both Cat and Kara had stalled. Much to HR’s confusion, they had vehemently insisted that a few days or even a week would be woefully inadequate to set Heather up for success.

The reality of this two week on-boarding process, however, was both intellectually dull and emotionally painful. Everywhere Kara went, there was Heather’s overly saccharine smile. Time could be measured in her constant bobble head nodding accompanied her note taking. As days progressed, Heather’s well meaning questions began to give way to ideas and process improvements with her musings about potential changes became increasingly assertive. It seemed borderline rude that Heather — who had so far been called Brooke, Ashley, Brittany, Bridget, and even Emily by Cat — had already begun redoing Kara’s filing and color coding systems. All the while openly eying Kara’s desk. A bonsai tree and a little mini zen garden had been mentioned and there was nothing that Kara could do about it come Monday. Perhaps it was Kara’s paranoid imagination, but it seemed like Heather was determined to wipe away any and all trace of Kara. This was not a subtle or graceful exit, but instead a slow dismembering of Kara’s entire world at CatCo.

The last time Winn had asked how the transition was going, Kara had glared while muttering that the on boarding was more like over boarding. If he had caught her in one of her more dramatic moments, she might have even called it emotional waterboarding. For the past two days, Kara had simply sat, watching Heather work, waiting to see if she had a question or have the decency to make a mistake, all while trying to avoid catching Cat’s eye through the glass, willing time to both speed up and stop completely.

It hit her, staring at the broken pencil, that there was nothing left for her at CatCo. Alex’s voice in her head urged her to just leave. No one would begrudge her that surely, to leave ten minutes early on her last day. She had already said most of her goodbyes. Standing up, Kara made a small, forced smile in Heather’s direction. Any chance of an unwanted but polite conversation, which had become increasingly prone to an inevitable and awkward ramble from Kara, was thankfully cut short by the phone ringing. Kara moved past Heather as she answered the phone almost but not quite how Kara had trained her, and crossed the threshold into Cat’s empty office.

Kara stepped out onto the balcony to find Cat, sitting a small ways away, staring out across the city. Her tablet lay across her lap, ignored in favor of some distant thought. Cat’s Scotch, cradled in her right hand, seemed to be more clearly and recently remembered. Unsure of how to greet her soon-to-be former employer, Kara cleared her throat in greeting.

“It’s almost…” Kara started and then stopped, clearing her throat a second time. Her eyes traced the National City skyline as if trying to find the thought Cat had lodged there just a moment before. How Kara longed for pockets or longer sleeves she could twist and tug with her fingers. The dress she had picked out had seemed fine this morning, but now it left her wanting. Without even a tablet or a folder to hide behind, she was left vulnerable. Exposed. Kara settled on wrapping her arms around herself as if to protect herself against the cold she didn’t feel.

Cat perked an eye up at the gesture, for a second almost perched at the ready to call Kara out on something so ridiculously as feigning being cold. Instead, Cat greeted her as if they were already mid-conversation.

“How many haircuts do you have in a year?”

“I, uh…” Kara furrowed her brow. “I couldn’t say. Probably not as many as I should.” And then, as if anticipating, “I did buy a new conditioner last week.”

“I just read the most ludicrous blog post,” Cat continued, undeterred in her rising exasperation, “hypothesizing all the different ways Superman might shave. It’s even trending on Twitter: #shaveofsteel. Gillette has gotten hold of it and it’s like watching a slow motion car wreck as their social media team mangles the whole thing.” Cat gestured at her tablet with her drink. “I wish I could say I never seen such a desperate failure at product placement, but we all survived the _Sex in the City_ movie in one way or another and I imagine we’ll find a way to do so again in this dark hour.”

“It can’t be that bad surely,” Kara laughed incredulously. These type of articles came up time and again. It was usually more amusing to learn what people got wrong than startling to find out about what they had actually gotten right.

“The current leading theory seems to involve the combination of heat vision and, I quote, a sturdy mirror. It’s only half plausible until you consider haircuts. What sort of rigging do you suppose Superman would need for a simple neck trim? And then there’s you.” Cat gestured at Kara in an up and down motion with her drink, “It’s hard to imagine what lengths you’d have to undertake to achieve even what little you have in the way of volumes and layers through eye lasers and mirror placements.” Cat dismissed the thought with a flick of her wrist and a triumphant sip.

“Eye lasers aren’t a thing. That just sounds… silly.” Kara corrected with a playful crinkle of her nose. As for the rest, Kara refrained from further comment.

“Yes, because heat vision sounds so much better. My mistake.” Cat rolled her eyes.

It had been like this for weeks - Cat peppering Kara with questions in the increasingly rare moments when they were alone. Having quickly moved past the basics, answers Kara knew by rote and felt comfortable sharing, Cat’s line of inquiry was anything but timid. All under the premise of her yet-to-be-written exclusive, Cat sought answers that had taken Kara and her foster family years to find. Cat chased the answers with a casual flare that did nothing to hide the underlying burning curiosity. Kara bumbled through avoiding the most with an uncomfortable laugh here, a weak excuse about a phone ringing there, or, when she was lucky, a real forest fire.

“Well?” Cat raised her eyebrows impatiently.

“Kryptonians and humans aren’t the same,” Kara conceded as if she was confessing a lesser known truth.

“Ground breaking, truly. Care to indulge on how we differ in this particular arena?”

“We’re not as…” Kara struggled for the word, tipping her head to one side and then the other as if physically weighing various phrasings with her head. Deciding against thefinishing the sentence entirely, she instead offered, “High school was rough for my cousin. For a lot of reasons, but also for the same reason it took me months to figure out what facial hair actually was.” Kara let out a small laugh, remembering when her foster father had started to grow a beard. Then, her light hearted tone suddenly turned faux-serious. “Maybe keep this between us. My cousin probably prefers everyone running with the whole ‘heat-vision-mirror’ theory.”

“Of course,” Cat sighed dramatically.

“Beyond discussing about my cousin’s facial hair, do you need anything else before I leave?” Kara attention turned to the sky above, as if there was a clock hovering office CatCo letting her know that time was almost out.

Cat made a show of thinking, her finger slowly tracing the rim of her glass, before finally shaking her head with a hint of resignation.

“Then, I guess… it’s time. If you need anything else, Heather should be able to take of it.” Kara mostly succeeded in keeping her voice even and professional.

“Do you think Helen’s ready?”

Kara knew that if she said no, she could stay another week, another month, as long as she wanted probably. All she had to do was ask and Cat would say yes. Maybe Heather would become frustrated with the situation and quit, giving Kara further reason to stay. She desperately wanted to plead one last time for her job, for Cat, for something beyond the inevitability of her walking out the door and never coming back. Kara hated change — changing planets, changing school every couple of years as part of some strange and cruel Earth custom, changing jobs. Change always felt like a synonym for loss. Even following Alex to National City had been hard. Until becoming Supergirl, most nights had been spent circling her Netflix queue or stumbling through bad internet dates. More often than she would like to admit, her nights had been spent wandering through strange yet familiar streets pretending to be convinced that a 24/7 pharmacy with a decent ice cream and a better snack selection would be just another block or so further.

Feeling suddenly powerless, Kara steadied her expression before trying to smile. “There is not much else that I can teach her at this point. She’s already been warned twice to never get you Chipotle.”

“Shame. It was such a disappointing cultural experience the first time around.” In a way, Cat almost sounded disappointed.

Kara pressed her lips together in an effort to keep the smile from slipping off her face. “It’s going to be fine, Cat. More than fine. Heather went to Yale and she is coming in with more experience than I have now. The only thing she doesn’t know at this point is you and, well, me being here is holding her back. I’m only in the way.”

Cat drained her glass with one fluid movement.

“So.” Kara tipped her head to the side, examining her soon to be former boss carefully. If it was only a question of attraction or feelings even _,_ then there wasn’t a question at all. If it was only the power difference between boss and employee, the question would soon cease to be relevant. If it was only as simple as that, then Kara would close the space between them. But, it was more than that. Instead of leaning in, Kara wrapped herself a little tighter in her own arms. “I guess this is goodbye. And thank you.”

“It was an honor working with you, Kara, and it’s nothing less than inspiring seeing what you are starting to become.” Cat’s voice sounded hoarse for a second, but recovered by the time she stood up and held out her hand. “I couldn’t be more proud.”

A prickling wetness formed in the corner of her eyes as Cat said the words Kara longed to hold on to for the darker, colder days to come. And yet, Kara felt suspended, caught between all the words left unsaid. It felt almost physical, viscus. There was no amount of Kryptonian strength that could allow Kara to push through and say the words evaporating on her tongue. Instead she took Cat’s offered hand in her own and shook it, swallowing back the emotions rushing to the surface. “Thank you. For everything. I mean it. You’ve been… well, everything really. More than you’ll ever know.”

“I have a slight inkling.” There was a playful and knowing glint in Cat’s eyes. She bit her bottom lip before finding Kara’s eye, her thumb stroking Kara’s hand. “Keep in touch, a fly by visit every once in a while to let me know how you’re doing. No interview, I promise, just as… friends.”

“As friends.” Kara smiled sadly, her eyes darting around the balcony and down to her shoes in an effort to evade the pinpricks of tears forming before flickering back up to Cat. Kara wondered when that would be — friends. “Maybe in few weeks, when I’m a bit more settled.”

“Of course.”

It was several moments longer before they let their hands fall away. A beat or two more before Kara stepped back and towards the door leading back to the bullpen.

“What are you going to do?” Cat called out as Kara’s foot crossed the threshold. When Kara turned around with a confused expression, Cat added, “To celebrate your next adventure as a journalist.”

“I was going to head out across the Pacific and follow the sunset for a while. The weather seems perfect for it.” Her eyes trailed westward where, behind the buildings, the sky opened up and the ocean lay in wait.

“Goodbye, Cat.”

“See you soon, Kara.” Cat countered.

That night, over the waves and then back again in her apartment, Kara would try to trace it all back— what Cat looked like, the arch of her eyebrows, the tone of her voice, even how she was holding her drink in those final moments— and Kara would fail. Cat was smudged beyond recall. Kara could barely remember what Cat had said on the balcony, let alone how.

* * *

 

Kara didn’t visit. She didn’t see Cat soon.

The first few weeks of her job were hard, consuming, and the best kind of distraction as she sought to prove herself from the ground up all over again. While she never stopped gravitating in the general direction of CatCo, she only ever orbited the building. She never flew near enough to land. Even when Cat was sitting outside. Especially then. Kara never knew if Cat was watching and waiting or moving on and forgetting. It took all her willpower not to return to familiar and well-missed balcony to find out.

She told herself it wasn't time yet. That she wasn’t ready. She wasn’t settled enough, she wasn’t impressive enough. Her bylines were still too small, too trivial. She hadn’t moved on or found someone new. She hadn’t even begun to believe that such a thing was possible yet. So how could she go back? Kara told herself time and time again that Cat’s blurry invitation was only out of politeness. That Kara’s longing to take Cat up on it anyway was nostalgia and nothing more. Moving on from people might differ from losing planets, but Kara knew more than most that you couldn’t always go back. That maybe it was better that way. Kara told herself whatever she needed to hear on any given night. Even on the nights she listened for Cat’s heartbeat. Especially then she flew faster, farther, found a criminal to catch, an old lady with furniture to assemble, a sick child to visit in the hospital.

She missed Cat with an ever-present, low grade burning that spiked when Kara least expected it. The smallest thing could bring her back to the memories and the what ifs. It didn’t matter that she felt grateful for the memories more than anything else. No matter how skilled Kara was at losing people, places, and things, it still hurt. It always would. No amount of mastery would save her from that.

But she knew how to push through, how to pretend. Kara settled in nicely to her new position at the Tribune, made passing casual acquaintances at work. There she was only ever Kara Danvers: overly sweet, well meaning, enthusiastic, and anything but threatening. She was the work acquaintance who would only occasionally agree to happy hour drinks and never told war stories about working under the infamous Cat Grant. If asked, if pressed, to the astonishment of all, she would only ever give praise.

* * *

 

It was an unexpected and commanding knock come the week before Christmas. Even with the familiar heartbeat and the telltale footsteps, it seemed unlikely that Cat standing outside of Kara’s door.

In a rushed, unsteady movement, Kara stood up, nearly overturning her palette of paint onto the floor. Ignoring the door, Kara balanced the wobbling palette and steadied the cup of muddy water.

The knock came again, harder and more impatient, the percussive version of “Kiera!” shouted across the bullpen.

Kara nervously made her way to the door, pausing at the kitchen island to reach for her glasses. She scrunched her face to slide her frames on, as if trying to physically squeeze the whole of her being back within the narrow definition of Kara Danvers. Had she known what to wear instead, she might have used her super speed to change out of her old jeans and the paint-stained shirt from college. But it was late on a Sunday night and she was tired, so she only gathered her loose hair back into a ponytail and, convince she had gotten paint on herself earlier, half-heartedly rubbed at her cheek with her palm.

As Cat knocked a third time, louder than ever, Kara stalled even then to steady her breath. Only then did she open the door to reveal Cat, already poised to knock a fourth time.

“Oh.” Cat recovered quickly, her mouth quirking upwards, taking in Kara’s paint-stained clothing, a sound escaped—either a hm, or mm—before Cat slid into a more conversational tone. “Bad time?”

“No, no, not at all,” Kara half-assured her former boss. “Just… unexpected.”

The comment was ignored as Cat indicated at the doorway with her eyes once, twice before Kara opened the door wide enough and stepped aside. Cat strutted in, somehow seeming both bored yet overtly curious at Kara’s apartment.

Kara followed Cat back into her apartment, struggling to catch up to the strange turn of events, something she had once dreamed of, if not outright fantasized about, but had given up on. It wasn’t so much of a matter of how Cat got here—Cat most certainly had access to Kara’s address both through HR and her large binder of research. Kara even had a good idea which one of Cat’s drivers was most likely circling the block that very minute. It was more why Cat had come at all. Until arriving unannounced at Kara’s door, both woman had remained apart and equally silent.

Cat rummaged around in her bag, pulling out two pairs of glasses and one exceedingly expensive pen before successfully fishing out a thin plastic binder encapsulating a few typed pages that she held out to Kara expectantly. “I figured it was best if I brought it to you directly considering.”

“Considering…” Kara trailed off as her heart plummeted at the unknown pages, her hands twisted and pulled at the sleeve of her shirt.

“Our promise.” Cat waved the pages in Kara’s direction.

“Oh.” As it all came together, the relief was tangible to the where point Kara almost giggled. “Your promise. The article. You actually wrote it.”

“Yes, the article. _My_ article. Written in impeccable timing.” Cat’s words were further accentuated by the continued pointed fluttering of the article in question. “Was I being absurd, assuming you were actually serious about wanting to read it? Did I just drive through the slums on a Sunday night after Carter’s bedtime because you threatened an exclusive to Lois Lane in jest?”

“Of course I want to read it,” Kara reached out, finally taking the article as a new heaviness took hold in her stomach. After everything, what had Cat even written?

Cat pulled up a chair at kitchen counter and sat down, eyeing Kara expectantly. “Well?”

“You mean now? You want me to read your article now?” Kara blinked. She had never, not once in all her time at CatCo, read one of Cat’s articles in Cat’s presence.

“Still faster than a speeding bullet on the uptake, I see. Yes, Kara, of course _now_. You did promise to keep my publishing deadlines in mind.” Cat glared before her sharp tone turned bored, “Per the excessively iron clad NDA, your sister and Agent Mulder are already redacting their own copy as we speak. I imagine by the time they’re through all that will be left is my byline. If it helps, you can consider this essentially a forced formality.”

Kara moved behind to the other side of counter across from Cat, not ready to read the article but unable to put it down. Part of her wondered how Cat had delivered the DEO’s copy and if it had been in person as well. Was this why Cat had arrived so late?

“Can I offer you a drink? I have, um…” Kara racked her brain, searching for something, anything she could offer. “I think there is some beer in the fridge and an open bottle of white wine. It’s a screw top, though… And water, obviously. Oh! And whiskey.”

Cat perked an eyebrow. “You said alcohol doesn’t affect you.”

“It doesn’t. It’s for game night, things like that. Alex mostly.”

“And what kind of whiskey does your sister drink?”

Kara opened the freezer and placed the bottle on the counter between them. Cat nodded with a resigned sigh. 

It was a strangely comfortable silence as Kara poured what Alex would describe as several fingers worth of whiskey and slid the glass across the counter to her former boss, mindful that their fingers never touched. As the glass changed hands, a familiar charged energy pass between them, their eyes meeting for the first time since Cat’s unexpected arrival at her front door. Not quite sizing the other up, but searching for clues and whispers to fill the spaces and unspoken intentions between their words. And then, as if having found what she was looking for, Cat lifted the glass in a mock salute and took a sip with only the smallest of grimaces.

“If your sister doesn’t completely decimate my article, remind me to send her a half decent bottle of whiskey as a public service.”

Unable to defend her sister’s choice of drink, Kara tried to shift her attention to the article. Cat twisted slightly in her chair, as if to give space for Kara to read, seemingly content to examine Kara’s apartment with a distant curiosity. Kara’s eyes tracked across the page, re-reading the opening line twice, three times, never absorbing a single letter. Perhaps sensing she was a distraction, Cat stood up, moving away from the counter and towards the unfinished canvas Kara had set up in the living room area.

“You paint. May I?”

It was more a formality than a question. Cat was already only a few feet away from the unfinished painting, her curiosity drawing her ever nearer to the canvas. Kara had started it a few days ago, thinking painting might help. It hadn’t.She had spent the evening staring at the canvas unable to divine the next brush stroke.

“I, um, sure,” Kara blinked.

“Resounding consent,” Cat remarked dryly, finally coming to a full stop in front of the unfinished painting.

Kara joined Cat, the article all but forgotten on the counter. She shifted from foot to foot, torn between asking Cat what she thought and ripping the unfinished canvas off the easel and chucking it out the window.

Cat leaned in to examine the painting closer before picking up one of the cleaner tubes of paint. “Oils. Impressive.”

“I like how they never really dry,” Kara explained, scratching behind her neck self-consciously.

Cat toyed with the tube between her fingers, returning her attention to the painting. A small speck of red paint transferred unnoticed to her index finger.

“Never dry, never finished, never fully in the past tense,” Cat agreed with a sip of her drink, finally placing the paint tube down. “This is Krypton, your home.” It wasn’t a question, but there something strange about her tone, her observation, almost like awe. “It’s stunning.”

“Was Krypton,” Kara corrected, dipping her head to hide a grimace that recovered into a shy smile. “Thanks.”

But it didn’t seem stunning to her, at least not in the traditional sense, but a demon that had to be excised from her heart. Kara’s eyes traced the redness of the sky, the destruction and corrosive smell of her planet rendered in a pale interpretation of a violent sunset.

“What will go here?” Cat pointed to the large, deafening blank space marring the bottom left of the canvas.

“I can’t remember,” Kara admitted, adjusting her glasses with a defeated frown.

“Are you trying to remember?” Cat’s voice was low, as if sensing that it was all slipping out of Kara’s grasp. As if she knew that loss was a slow, gradual erosion, simultaneously tedious and panic-inducing.

Kara shrugged. The blank space was just out of reach, perhaps not quite lost altogether, but blurred more than she felt comfortable with. It was a composition Kara had painted many times over. She still had the older canvases somewhere, an ongoing testament to the evolution of her painting skills and the slow disintegration of her memories. Gaping blank spots in her composition, either out of forgetting or lack of trust in her memory, were not new or unusual. 

At one point, partway through her painting elective in college, she had convinced herself that she could paint the entirety of her planet as she remembered it. As if oil paint was a sealant to memories. As if it could bring back, even for a moment, the glimmer, the sensation of home. Instead, Kara’s paintings had become a confession of an ill-remembered homeland: too reverent to improvise, too honest to lie.

“Memory is a tricky thing,” Cat offered kindly.

“It changes. I change. Everything’s shifted. I was so much shorter then, younger.” Kara’s brow crinkled, as if changing age and height explained it. “It’s hard to be certain of the specifics. I can’t be sure anymore.”

“As someone who has been married four times—…”

“Four?” Kara sputtered at the abrupt change in topic.

“It would have been five, but I turned down Rob Lowe. Twice actually.” It was a fleeting, winning grin before Cat turned serious again. “I’ve learned that certainty only ever works in the short term. It speaks more of doubt and naivety than anything else. Trust, not knowing something but believing in it, is far more important. You trust in your abilities, in the intention of your actions and theirs, and try to do minimal harm along the way. Certainty is a flimsy piece of paper to hide behind, while trust…” Cat turned to face Kara with a little shrug, her voice turning to a near-whisper. “It’s priceless.”

“So you’re saying I should fill in the holes with guesses?” The very idea was repulsive.

“If I was your art dealer, I would most certainly order you to keep them blank with the right artist statement. As… your friend, I think it’s something you have to figure out for yourself. You need to trust your memory and maybe learn to accept its imperfections and lapses, either by celebrating them,” Cat gestured at the blank space, “or accepting your guesses as you call them.” 

Cat reached out with her finger, tracing in the air above the canvas, following the heavy brush strokes of red and ochre, before returning her full attention to Kara with a gentler curiosity. “Did you ever figure out what was making you so angry?”

“The anger behind the anger you mean?” Kara crossed her arms over her chest. “Is this for your article?”

“The one that’s currently sitting unread on your kitchen counter? No.”

“The next one.” For there would always be the next article.

“Decidedly not,” Cat tsked with a frown. “It’d be redacted before I could even finish writing the first sentence.”

Kara uncrossed her arms just enough to adjust her glasses. Her hands were then quickly shoved into her pockets, adopting the patented Kara Danvers slouch. Comforted by the familiar curve of her shoulders sloping inward, Kara avoided the emotions swirling tempestuously within her. Only after controlling the last flicker of emotion did Kara give a small shrug.

“I think I figured it out.”

Cat narrowed her eyes, not quite pushing for further elaboration but clearly not satisfied either.

Even if there were words, Kara wouldn’t know how to form the sentences. The loss of her world and all that it meant, the infinite decay of loneliness and gathering loss. The remnants: a distant cousin, a dead aunt and an evil uncle, all the dwindling memories spread too thinly between them. El mayarah translated differently in American English, skewed and off-center. Instead of together, each cousin had abandoned the other in their own way. Kara was a perpetual outsider on the blue planet, a secret immigrant, forever trying to honor her Kryptonian culture while simultaneously betraying it in order to assimilate. In the end it wasn’t so much anger she felt, but anger was the easier translation.

How could she say any of this to Cat? Maybe she could have in the cabin when she had felt that strange surge of bold honesty, but not now. Instead, Kara distilled everything into a single observation, “If I was normal, you would have never fallen for me, would you?”

Cat outwardly scoffed. “Normal? What does that even mean?”

“Human.” Kara glared. “One hundred percent and truly just Kara Danvers.”

“I would have never looked twice.” Cat responded without hesitation.

Kara nodded, already knowing full well what Cat’s answer was going to be, exhaling when she finally spoke. “It was never going to work, was it?”

“Us?”

“Cat Grant, Queen of All Media, would never date normal, boring, safe Kara Danvers. And to the world, that is all I ever can be.”

Kal-El had explained it countless times, but it took actually becoming Super Girl for Kara to understand it. People rarely looked and saw anything but a reflection of themselves refactored through the yellow sun and projected onto the person in front of them. People were blinded and led by the story they told themselves. Caught in a masterful replaying of the same but different narrative they had already lived out with countless others. An infinite loop of self-fulfilling prophesies, forever recasting new parts and players for the same roles. No one ever saw Kal-El or Kara Zor-El because no one was looking for the nice aliens next door, not really, not when they were looking for next thing that would make them feel happy and loved or that would explain why they weren’t.

But people would look closer at Cat’s girlfriend. Maybe with all that looking, they might actually see.

“I’ve seen worse midlife crises by far, even with your feigned normalcy and sales rack cardigans.” Cat tipped her head to the side, allowing herself to visibly relish in the sight of Kara.

Despite herself, Kara let out a self conscious laugh. “A midlife crisis?”

“The kind you’d find on the Syfy channel,” Cat clarified dryly.

“That good, huh?” Kara withdrew a hand from her pocket to fidget with her sleeve once again. Instead of I miss you, Kara said, “I hate change.”

“I imagine you would after everything.” Cat dug through her purse, as if to undercut the honesty of her words, unsheathing the pair of glasses she wore on the rare occasions she drove herself. Cat moved to the door and turned to look at Kara expectantly.

“Now, I need all redactions and eraser marks by tomorrow night so I have enough time to salvage whatever stray sentences you leave me with. I’ll be by to pick up the remains.”

Kara reached Cat just as the door opened. She hesitated before reaching and placing a hand on Cat’s shoulder. “I don’t regret it. Any of it. I just…” It wasn’t so much as a plea, but something else. A need to be heard, to be understood. To be seen. “I miss you.”

Cat closed her eyes, her breath seemed to slow and become more deliberate. She turned to face Kara, their bodies only inches apart.

“I meant it when I said you should fly by sometime, though perhaps I should be more explicit about actually landing on my balcony.” In a slight stutter of a motion, Cat reached up and cupped Kara’s cheek, brushing it lightly with her thumb. Her hand was gone before Kara fully registered the contact.

“Paint, on your cheek.” Cat offered as a way of explanation. “There’s some in your hair as well. Starving artist is nowhere near your worst look.” Cat smiled bittersweetly. “We could heat a small Eastern European country for all of February if you ever let me burn those poly-blend cardigans monstrosities of yours and still you are….” Cat backed up and slipped out into the hallway, glancing back over her shoulder only once. “Good night, Kara.”

* * *

 

“You read the article.” Alex answered Kara’s call after two rings without so much of a greeting. In the background, Kara could hear all too familiar bustle of the DEO.

“Of course I read the article.”

Kara made her way down the street, a bag of donuts in hand and no clear rush to return to the office. After catching a glimmer of Jor-El out of the corner of her eye earlier that morning, she kept her eyes downcast, forcing her to clumsily navigated the crowds before veering off into an office park and settling on a somewhat secluded park bench. Mis-sightings were no longer a common occurrence, however there were still days when her mind was convinced that maybe, just maybe, against all rhyme and reason, there was her mother or father, an uncle, a friend or acquaintance, a familiar face from long before waiting in line at the pharmacy. Even on Earth, for a fraction of a second, she would forget that they were gone. It always ended the same: a thud in her chest, a sinking in her stomach followed by a low grade sadness that would traipse after her for days, tugging at her sleeve every so often to remind her that it was still there. That, in one way or another, it would always be there.

“And?”

”I mean, what do I say to an article like that, Alex?”

“That you’re honored? She nominated you as one of CatCo’s People of the Year. You’re on the same list as Beyonce and Malala Yousafzai.” Alex was clearly grinning smugly on the other side of the line. “I mean, even I’m a little impressed.”

“She nominated Supergirl,” Kara corrected, digging into her bag to pull out the first donut of several and taking a large bite. Without Winn or James, there was no one to share with for better or for worse. The Tribune wasn’t far from CatCo. In theory, she could coordinate a donut break. She just hadn’t yet.

“So does that mean you won’t give the DEO a signed copy to frame?” There was a slight break in conversation when Alex clearly turned to someone else to give them a curt order before returning the receiver to her mouth. “You realize that this is the closest Cat probably ever gets to writing a love letter, don’t you?”

“It’s not a love letter.” Kara huffed between bites but the what ifs began to grow.

“Are you eating right now?”

“Obviously,” Kara responded, allowing her words to become overly muffled by the donut she was chewing before swallowing the large bite.

“If I didn’t know about your high-caloric intact, I’d ask if you were stress eating.”

“Alex,” Kara whined, “be serious. I have ten minutes before I’m due back in the bullpen and a deadline that I already had to push back once already because of yesterday.”

“Well, first I’d write that article and then start coming up with better cover stories,” Alex chirped, clearly not done with amusing herself.

“The whole point of emergencies is that they’re not planned and can happen at any time,” Kara defended herself. As far as cover stories went, she had thought that the whole dental emergency excuse had gone fairly well. The fact that she had needed one at all was strangely unsettling. She wasn’t used to people asking where she was going. Perhaps, she realized, it was because Cat already had a fairly decent guess.

“You are the worst liar. Is it a Kryptonian thing?”

“Can we get back on topic, please?” Kara fished out the second donut. “The article.”

“Look, I don’t know,” Alex sighed, her voice signaling that she had, at least for now, decided to be serious. “This really isn’t my area here. I’m not really a relationship person, you know that. Even Winn has gone on more dates in the past year. _Winn._ ” Alex paused to prove her point while also trying not to absorb the true meaning of that confession or feel like she was somehow broken because of it. “But, you seem to think she’s worth it and she already knows about you. I don’t know, maybe you can make it work. Cat’s a big girl. It she wants to make it happen, it’ll happen. And based off the article, she might want it to.”

“When? In the next century?”

“When she’s ready.”

“What if she’s never ready?” Kara paused partway through her donut.

“Then she’s not your Lois and you’ll move on.”

Kara exhaled forcefully through her nostrils. “This sucks.”

“Falling in love with your former boss does tend to have that result,” Alex teased.

“You said you were going to take this seriously.”

“I am! Hey, if this doesn’t work out, we could always be crime solving spinsters together,” Alex mused, sounding almost half serious, “sneaking out of our nursing homes to Nancy Drewing the crap out of everything. What do you say?”

“Don’t tempt me. I got to go,” Kara stood up, seizing the final donut from her bag. “I’ll see you tomorrow for game night?”

“Unless another dental emergency comes up. Remember to brush and floss regularly!”

* * *

 

A glass of Alex’s whiskey was poured and waiting next to the marked up article on the kitchen counter by the time Cat knocked on Kara’s door. This time there was no smudge of paint on Kara’s cheek, no paint stained clothes, only a fluttering nervousness.

“Cat, hi.” Kara answered the door after the first knock with a shy, awkward smile.“I guess I should start by saying thank you.”

“Please your neighborhood isn’t _that_ bad.” Cat stepped inside, her eyes sweeping the apartment. “Though don’t expect me to make a habit of it.”

“I mean… your article. You were actually nice this time. I mean, you even nominated Supergirl…”

Cat rolled her eyes. “Is that it here, next to more of your sister’s firewater?” She picked up the article, scanning it briefly as she flipped through the pages, picking up the drink to take a small sip before placing the whiskey immediately down again.

Kara took what felt like her customary place on the other side of the counter. “I… a few things needed to be cut.”

“The whole section about Molly, even after I obscured her name?” Cat replied incredulously.

“It could trace back to Carter.”

Cat sighed and put down the article. “And here I thought I had heard a rumor you had made a new habit of visiting children in hospitals.”

“Not enough to obscure my visit to Molly.” Kara shoved her hands into her pockets.

“Between you and your sister, I’ve been left very few verbs and barely a noun to work with. What does the Queen of All Media have to do to get an adjective?” Cat’s hand hovered over the glass before picking it up and downing half the contents. “I guess I should be grateful.”

“You know, I… I never really answered your question, about the anger behind the anger.” Kara swallowed before impulsively plucking an orange from the fruit bowl on the counter. The fruit twisted and turned around in her hands as if it was a magical eight ball that would reveal her next words.

“I had picked up on that,” Cat’s eyes narrowed.

“I used to hate Earth.” The confession came out rougher than Kara expected.

“And how did my humble planet ended up wooing you in end? Or is this the opening to your big super villain reveal? If so, could you delay this plot twist a while longer as I’m in the process of nominating you as a CatCo Person of the Year. The timing’s a bit inconvenient.”

Kara pressed her lips into a straight line, suppressing what felt like both a smile and frown, and adjusted her glasses before returning to playing with the orange in her hands.

“I lost everything. My family, my friends, my culture, my religion, my landscapes, my… everything. And I, I can’t seem to be able to stop losing things.” The orange stilled in her hand as she held it up, searching for the right metaphor for her planet, for everything she had lost. She desperately wanted someone besides her adopted family to see, to understand the weight and the breadth of her lost planet. “Earth’s an adventure, a new world, new friends, new family… something to be grateful for. But, an adventure doesn’t feel like home.” It was the heaviest confession of all. The last of her secrets she had left to give Cat. “I don’t think it ever will.”

“I’ll be sure to send your feedback to the interplanetary welcoming committee.” Cat folded herself onto the nearby kitchen stool. Her body language was one of rapt attention, of compassion. “I can’t begin to understand all that you’ve overcome. Your strength, your resilience, your… everything.”

“It’s been over a decade and the only time I feel at home is with my sister, Alex.” Kara’s jaw tightened as her eyes flickered around the floor.

“Everyone needs a home, Kara.” There was a softness, a warmth to her a voice. And a sadness.

“And with you.” Kara looked up, daring to find and hold Cat’s gaze. “I know, we said, and I agree, I do… I promise I do, but I wanted you to know, just the same. Being with you feels like home.”

She seemed so strong to Cat in that moment, anxiously playing with the orange in her hands, more so than when she donned her costume and placed her hands on her hips.

When Cat opened her mouth, there was an uncharacteristic silence before her face shifted and the words finally came.

“You know, after you left CatCo the most horrible article came across my desk. A rambling mess about the meaning of happiness, it had more cliches than an actual point. Even after an initial round of notes, it was complete sentimental drivel veering so much into unsolicited self help that it should have been pulled over for a DUI and reckless endangerment.” Cat exhaled. “This is why common sense invented editors and rewrites, Kara. Don’t ever forget that. Underneath all that…” Cat flicked it away without needing so much as an adjective. “It might have actually had something interesting to say about happiness that wasn’t preaching from far too much experience and a dizzying amount of mistakes.”

As Cat spoke, she stood up and took a step forwards Kara. And then another and another until they were circling close in each other’s orbit.

“Happiness, I’m sorry to report, has nothing to do with accomplishments, no matter how spectacular.” Cat gestured at herself as if anyone for a second could forget all that she had worked for, all that she had achieved, and all that she continued to strive for. Even so, underneath it all, there was the Lexapro, the migraines, the strained relationship with her mother, the four failed marriages, an estranged son, and the insecurity raging underneath it all like an underground river that no one was allowed to see. “Success does help, a bit. Fleetingly, I’ll warn. And possessions? The things you hold, the things you actually keep?” Cat scoffed. “Those, I think, you’re actually meant to lose. True happiness, apparently, is more about the people you know, the relationships you form. How you let people in.” And then quietly, as if more to herself, “It’s a shame really, because that’s the one thing I’ve never been very good at.”

“Sounds… deep. Are you going to publish it?”

“It was unsalvageable.” Cat motioned to the article on the counter. “I had to scrap the whole thing and nominate you for Person of the Year instead.” She spoke as if it was the easy, rational next step.

“Wait… what?” Kara blinked.

“The first ten drafts were an exercise in becoming brave enough to let you in.” Closing the space between them, Cat reached up to gently cup Kara’s face. “I missed you.”

Kara covered Cat’s hand with her own, holding it against her cheek. For several heart beats it was all she could focus on, the warm softness of Cat’s hand.

“Adam?” His name escaped Kara’s lips with a stolen, jagged exhale before Kara realized she was speaking.

Cat withdrew her hand with the confession of, “I don’t know.”

The chill, the loss of touch was immediately felt. Kara longed to reach out and return Cat’s hand to her cheek. To guide it down her neck and then further still. She wanted to never have to press, to understand, to be sure.

“It’s a big unknown, Cat.”

“I have been such a horrible, awful mother to him his whole life. At almost every crossroads, every chance, I abandoned him because I… I thought he deserved better than me. I thought I was doing the right thing.” A forced smile flickered across Cat’s face. As it disappeared, it failed to take the traces of moisture forming in her eyes. “Maybe I was right. I have done almost nothing to earn this second chance. I have no right to think he’d forgive me this, and yet I…” Cat bit her lip. “I wouldn’t have this opportunity to mess up without you.”

“Cat…” Kara reached up, wishing to whisk away the moisture forming in Cat’s eye, but hesitated, leaving her hand suspended in the small space between their bodies.

“Perhaps, together, we could….” Cat stopped herself. “I can’t keep doing what I always do, pushing people away.” Cat reached out, guiding Kara’s hand to her face. “If I continued to do so now it would mean my entire life, I haven’t learned a thing or be the mother I want to be. To Carter, if maybe not to Adam. How can I wish for my sons to be happy if I don’t know how to show them happiness?” And before Kara could respond, Cat smiled, pushing her vulnerability away. “Besides I’m too rich and famous to waste my valuable time with what ifs and regrets. Why lose sleep being lonely when the second most powerful person in National City is foolish enough to love me back.”

Despite herself, despite everything that Cat had confessed, Kara snorted. “Second most?”

Cat reached out, slipping her hand on Kara’s waist to tug her even closer. It was almost gentle. Shy. “On Earth, this is where you lean in and kiss me.”

Kara blinked, the air, the room, everything about her seemed to have shifted and shifted far too suddenly. The orange, largely forgotten, slipped unnoticed out of her grasp and rolled underneath the kitchen table.

It wasn’t like the cabin at all, kissing Cat Grant now. Enough time had passed that the cabin felt more like an illicit daydream, holding the misty quality of a memory replayed so many times that any sense of reality was lost to the Canadian wilderness. Cat’s lips were soft, insistent and Kara kept telling herself to be gentle. Gentle when their noses nearly collided, gentle when their teeth almost knocked against each other in excitement. Gentle, especially when she clung to Cat, one hand gripping her hip, the other snaking around her head as if to keep the other woman from slipping away again.

Even as Cat gripped her a little tighter as they began to float off the floor, Cat murmuring “show off” between kisses, Kara knew that this wasn’t a happy ending. Hopefully they weren’t close to an ending at all. There was so much to learn, to discover, to master, and forget together. But even now, in the beginning moments of it all, there were things that had started to become clear and would only come into better focus with time.

1\. That Kara wasn’t simply a combination of Kara Danvers, Kara Zor-El, and Supergirl. She contained multitudes and contradictions, and, if she was brave enough, she could find strength in the fissures as well as the hinges and bridges between her identities.

2\. That maybe Cat wasn’t a horrible mother. That maybe her decision seemed selfish, but Kara made her happy. And, if happy, she could become a better mother, a better person if not for Adam then at least for Carter.

3\. That strength, true strength, came from being brave enough to be vulnerable, to feel the depths of your emotions, and trust that you will survive them.

4\. That, even after mastering the art of losing, even after surviving every disaster, and even after surrounding oneself in an impenetrable yet exhausting wall, one can still find temporary shelter and even make a home in the people you meet along the way. That maybe trying itself is worth more than the potential pain and loss.

5\. That everything was not automatically fine or wonderful simply because they had kissed. But it was a fine and wonderful start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The timeline, in terms of months and seasons, diverges a bit from canon. And maybe even a bit from a traditional earth calendar. Time is funny like that, I suppose.
> 
> I know, I know, I saw Russell Crowe’s Jor-El and yes, even that shaving scene from Lois & Clark. But I thought long and hard about Kryptonian facial hair, probably more than I should, and it’s been decided. For this story, I am using this as my preferred canon: https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/08/9c/d7/089cd751f66a79c8c1495983d25e0312.jpg. 
> 
> And for those who asked: most of this story was written while listening Alice Boman, especially “Waiting for You” and “Dreams.” (My girlfriend humbly requests a long and well earned break from Alice Boman.) And Shigeru Umebayashi’s “In the Mood for Love.”
> 
> There was initially an additional chapter which, I realized, was not necessary. Which probably bodes well for my molasses in the Antarctic writing speed. It may someday materialize as an epilogue. But no promises.
> 
> Hilariously (or tragically) enough, this was initially meant to be a light hearted, one shot full of trope-y goodness. Infinite gratitude goes to Dreiser, who helped my enthusiasm grow to span well beyond my original intention and for reading and providing wonderful feedback along the way. Someday I'll write that light hearted one shot, someday... Probably after I write all those epilogues I keep talking about.
> 
> Thank you so much for taking the time (and patience) to read this. (If you read this in real time, it took over 2 years - your dedication is impressive.) Your comments are amazing and have meant a lot to me even if I haven't gotten around to responding. There are many I hold with me on the harder days.


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